


Sunny Days

by Gort



Series: Spell-verse [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: 1950s, Alternate Universe - Human, Drama & Romance, F/M, Professor Spike, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-09-20 16:26:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 103,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9500039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/pseuds/Gort
Summary: AU Season 6. After the events of Frontierland, Buffy's decided that a relationship with Spike is worth the risk despite her Watcher's objections. When her friends enlist Riley’s help to show her the folly of her ways, everything definitely doesn’t go according to plan. Now Buffy’s stuck with a whole new set of problems—all while making sure the ribbon in her hair perfectly matches her outfit.Beta'd by the ever-fabulous Sunalso!Disclaimer: Characters not mine, plot is completely my fault.





	1. Surf Rider

**Author's Note:**

> Prior knowledge of Frontierland not required. Spike's traded in his cowboy hat for a rockin' fedora.
> 
> All chapter titles taken from era-appropriate songs.

Buffy’s reflection was pale in the mirror over the sink. The red lipstick she was wearing wasn’t quite the right shade for her, but it had been the best she could concoct with the hodgepodge of makeup she and Dawn owned. She came out of the bathroom and almost ran right into another girl. “Sorry!” Buffy called over the music. At least they weren’t playing the same ten songs these kinds of parties usually featured.

Buffy moved further into the room, finally spotting the familiar head of white blond hair glowing in the blacklights. She couldn’t believe the fall semester was in full swing already. Willow and Tara had encouraged her to enroll in classes but Buffy had other things she had to worry about first. Spike smirked at her over the head of some skanky brunette who was leaning forward to give him the best view of her cleavage. Buffy sighed in annoyance. Things like how to keep her boyfriend’s ego in check.

Buffy crossed the room and settled in against Spike’s side, eying the girl who’d been attempting to flirt with him. She watched the other girl’s face fall. “Where’ve you been?” Spike’s mouth was against her ear and his arm slid around her waist to keep her close. The brunette disappeared into the crowd, hopefully never to be seen again.

“Line, as usual” Buffy sighed. She surveyed the room. Several of the partygoers appeared to have fully embraced the Tiki theme. Buffy hadn’t seen so many brightly colored shirts since she’d helped Xander move.

Spike leaned down and nibbled on Buffy’s earlobe. “Ready to go?”

“I promised the others I’d stay for a while. I haven’t seen them much since I started looking for a job,” she said. “And Dawn told me to stop ‘hovering’ over her.”

Spike hummed in her ear. “Want me to take your mind off things for a bit?” His hands were starting to migrate under her top. She should have known better than to wear one that exposed her midriff, even if it was in keeping with the party theme. Still, it was nice to know that despite her life falling apart one piece at a time, Spike’s affection was as steady as a drumbeat. He’d offered to help with the money situation more than once but Buffy kept turning him down. She knew he meant well, but it terrified her to think he might do something Giles would demand she dust him for. He was the only thing that had kept her from flying apart over the events of the last few months, but her Watcher was still holding out hope she’d ‘come to her senses’ soon and move on.

Buffy elbowed Spike halfheartedly. “You’re supposed to tell me I’m not hovering; I’m just being a protective older sister.”

Spike snorted an amused laugh. “You do realize those are the same thing, kitten?”

“They are not!” Buffy protested. “When I was Dawn’s age, Mom used to…” her voice trailed off sadly. Spike pulled her closer, tucking her back against his chest. He kissed the juncture of her shoulder and neck as she relaxed against him and his fingers crept a little higher under her shirt.

“Can we maybe not have our eyeballs assaulted by PDA every five minutes?” Xander asked in exasperation as he appeared beside them and handed Buffy a drink. She frowned at it. It was violently blue with a tiny pink umbrella. The vampire sighed resignedly and moved his hands slightly lower.

The others had appeared behind Xander. Anya’s full skirt and meticulously curled hair fit right into the theme of the evening. She was eagerly watching the dance floor, her hips swaying in time with the twangy guitar. Willow and Tara were on her other side, holding hands and nursing bright blue drinks of their own.

“Like to assault more than that,” Spike muttered under his breath.

“Spike,” Buffy said in exasperation.

Xander perked up. “Oh, are you guys fighting? Maybe you should break up. Or dust him. Have you thought about dusting him?”

Willow and Tara both rolled their eyes before excusing themselves to go dance. Anya stared after them longingly but Xander continued glaring at Spike.

“Stop it, Xander.” Buffy sipped her drink and was pleasantly surprised to find it was a little fruity and a lot delicious. “No one’s dusting anyone.”

“Give you a little death right here if we don’t get the hell out of this place soon,” Spike rumbled in her ear.

Buffy blushed. “Soon,” she promised quietly, stroking the back of his hand.

Xander made a face. “Do you have to…touch him so much?”

“He’s my boyfriend, Xander.” Buffy felt like she said that at least ten times a day. Giles wasn’t the only one who hadn’t adjusted well to Spike’s new role in her life.

She’d thought that after everything Spike had done for her and Dawn, he’d should have earned some level of trust from her closest friends. Instead, Giles had pointed out that if Spike had actually—despite the handicap of the chip—had a hand in the death of Glory’s alter ego, the vampire was even more of a threat than before. Buffy had pointed out that they had no way of knowing if Spike had anything to do with Ben’s apparent suicide. Dawn was safe because Glory was dead, and that was what mattered. To Buffy, anyways; her Watcher apparently had different priorities.

Buffy absently turned her head and kissed Spike’s cheek. “Oh my god,” Xander said in annoyance. “Seriously, Buffy, are you sure there’s no…spell or thrall or anything?”

Buffy sighed. “We went over this all summer, Xand.”

“Well, call me an optimist.”

“Call you something,” Spike muttered.

Buffy bit her lip. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll meet you at Restfield,” she said quietly. She felt Spike take a deep breath as he heaved a sigh.

“Right, I’m off,” the vampire said. He gave Xander a two-fingered salute and nodded at Anya. “Don’t keep my girl out too late, kiddies.”

Xander watched him go, scowling at Spike’s back. “Why’d he even come out tonight? I thought this was a Scoobies-only party.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “Anya’s here,” she pointed out.

“She’s not _evil_ ,” Xander sputtered.

“Thanks, honey!” Anya beamed at him. “It’s nice to know I’ve adjusted so well. Can we dance now?

“Spike’s not evil either, Xander,” Buffy retorted. “He’s just…morally challenged. He’s doing his best.”

Xander looked doubtful. “He still doesn’t have a soul, and Angel said-”

“I know what Angel said,” Buffy cut him off in irritation. “I heard it the first hundred times directly from Angel. Stop worrying so much about my relationships and worry about your own.” She nodded at Anya, who was being chatted up by some guy in an ill-fitting Hawaiian shirt.

“Hey!” Xander yipped, heading in Anya’s direction.

Buffy watched Xander steer his triumphantly smiling girlfriend toward the dance floor and let out a wistful sigh. She wished sometimes things could be that simple between her and Spike, but nothing in her life was, apparently, ever destined to be easy. She was the one girl in the world chosen to fight demons, her sister was an ex-mystical key, and her boyfriend was a member of the undead. Normal wasn’t in the cards, no matter what Angel kept insisting. She knew it was selfish, but Spike was the one thing in her life that she’d chosen for herself and she wasn’t ready to give him up.

Buffy checked her watch. Five more minutes, then she was going to go show Spike just how much she appreciated him, even if no one else did. She wasn’t sure how much longer everyone was going to allow her this little slice of happiness, so she’d better make the most of it.

***

“Buffy!” Dawn’s voice was shrill as she called up the stairs. “I’m going to Janice’s!”

Buffy made a face at herself in the bathroom mirror and added another coat of mascara to try and distract from the bags under her eyes. Two more job rejections yesterday and no alone time with Spike had left her feeling dejected and cranky. Maybe she could…

“And Xander called about an emergency Scooby meeting at Giles’!” Dawn added. “Bye!” The front door slammed loudly.

Buffy sighed, her shoulders slumping. Or she’d go see what apocalypse was brewing now. At least that was a job she was qualified for. If only it paid…well, anything. She was rapidly running out of places to apply to in Sunnydale. Maybe she could ask Giles if he had any ideas. Buffy pulled her hair back into a ponytail and went to find some shoes, heading out the door just minutes after her sister.

***

Buffy opened the door to Giles’ apartment, surprised to find people already there. Willow hasn’t been able to make a lot of their meetings lately, and Xander tended to stop and get snacks first. Her heart sank. There must really be an apocalypse. Ugh, she hoped it was one of the easy self-sacrificing-demon-cult ones and not an expelled-from-hell-god one.

“Hey,” Buffy smiled at Giles as she shrugged out of her jacket and hung it up. Her Watcher hesitantly smiled back. Great, not an easy one then.  

“Hello, Buffy.” Giles gestured toward the stairwell. “Uh, we have a guest.”

Buffy blinked at the man who was sitting in Spike’s usual spot. “Riley?” she asked in disbelief. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since he’d left her in the middle of that Glory mess. The impending apocalypse must be a doozy. “What are you doing here?”

Riley gave her a sheepish smile, his eyes darting to Xander. “I, uh, got a call.”

Buffy put her hand on her hips and frowned at Giles. “That bad, huh?”

Giles looked at her sorrowfully. “Buffy, you know we’ve tried, but this…situation is untenable.”

Buffy moved into the living room and perched on one arm of the couch near Willow and Tara. “I’m sure you guys did your best. What’s the scoop then?”

Riley’s brow furrowed. He glanced at Xander again and Xander laughed nervously. “Uh, well, you know, Buffster, we’re just trying to help. I thought maybe Riley…” Xander made a rolling gesture with his hand that Buffy couldn’t interpret. “Well, I know things between you didn’t, uh, end well.”

Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Hey, if you guys think we need him here, it’s fine by me.” She looked at Riley. “Did you bring backup?”

“What?” Riley asked, apparently startled.

“What?” Xander echoed worriedly.

Buffy looked at both of them, waiting, and then at Giles. Her Watcher was rubbing his temple like he was fighting a headache. “Please, Buffy,” Giles said stiffly. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Buffy glanced at Willow, hoping for some clue as to why everyone was so tense. Willow avoided her eyes and stared guiltily at the floor. Tara met her gaze, sympathy written all over her face. “Oh,” Buffy said, understanding slowly dawning. “We’re not talking about an apocalypse.”

Giles grimaced. “I suppose in a manner of speaking…”

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. “Nice, Giles. My relationship is an apocalypse-level event now?”

Anya looked up from the bridal magazine she was perusing. “I tried to argue for some kind of crashing metaphor, but I was overruled.” She darted a glance at Riley. “I also pointed out that you were probably a lot more satisfied than you used to be but no one seemed to think that was relevant.” Xander made a choking noise.

Buffy lifted her eyebrows. “Thanks, I think?”

“You’re welcome.” Anya went back to her magazine.

Willow frowned at Xander’s girlfriend before turning a pleading look on Buffy. “I’m sorry, Buffy. I know this is, um, kinda my fault.” She hunched her shoulders sheepishly. “But we’re just…worried about you.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “You mean you’re worried about Spike.”

“He’s a vampire!” Giles burst out. “Of course we’re bloody worried about him. The things he’s capable of…”

Buffy stood up, her hands clenched into fists. “Spike is not Angelus! He’s…this isn’t the same!”

“Buffy, come on,” Xander said pleadingly. “We’re just trying to help. I know things have been tough, but we’re your friends, too and we never get to see you anymore. You’ve been…different lately.”

Buffy stared at him in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? There’s a million reasons for that besides Spike!”

Riley stood up and stepped towards her. Buffy eyed him warily. She’d forgotten what a big man he was. He was taller than everyone in the room and his posture was military-stiff. Apparently he’d fallen right back into line after leaving Sunnydale. She wondered if he would have come back at all if she’d been dating anyone but Spike.

“Buffy,” Riley said quietly, his expression full of concern. “This just isn’t you.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. Every moment that he could have been there for her and wasn’t flashed through her mind. “How would you know?”

That seemed to throw him a little. “Uh.” He fumbled. “Because we were…you know, and I still care about you. We’re all worried, Buffy. We just want what best for you.”

“Maybe Spike is what’s best for me,” Buffy retorted. Having Spike around definitely made her feel better. Well, most of the time anyways. As long as she kept him away from her friends so they didn’t snipe at each other. It was a little exhausting trying to please everyone while also navigating the tricky waters of picking up where her mom had left off. At this point, her Slayer duties were almost a welcome relief from all the grown-up stuff she was struggling to figure out. Too bad there wasn’t actually an apocalypse. She sighed in disappointment.

Riley scrunched up his face. “Yeah, that’s not…you’re missing the point.”

“Then what is the point?” Buffy threw up her hands. “I’m happy with Spike; there’s no apocalypse brewing. Go back to your secret missions and stay out of my love life.”

Riley was staring at her in bewilderment. “Your love…? I thought-” He glanced at Xander. “You told me it wasn’t that serious.” He gestured at Buffy.

Buffy made an offended noise and turned to Xander, who at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“Um,” Willow tentatively piped up. “I think the dreams kind of confused her.”

“What dreams?” Riley asked in alarm.

“The…the fantasy-spell ones I accidentally messed up.” Willow winced and Tara patted her hand. “They showed her nice stuff about him somehow instead of what they were supposed to do.”

“Fantasy-spell?” Riley repeated faintly.

“I’m not confused,” Buffy said, annoyed. “And you didn’t mess up. Spike’s just…he’s not what you think, okay?”  

“Buffy,” Giles said wearily. “He is exactly what we think. You’re the one who can’t seem to separate fact from fiction in this instance.”

“I understand the difference between my fantasy human boyfriend and reality’s vampire version, thank you, Giles,” Buffy said sarcastically.

“A spell made Spike human?” Riley cut in, sounding more confused than ever. “Why would you want that to happen?”

“It was an accident!” Willow corrected in alarm. “And they just dreamed Spike was human. Buffy was supposed to dust him but, um, I think they like…had kids or something instead.”

“Wait, what?” Xander interrupted in alarm. “That’s not possible. It’s not possible, right, G-man?”

“Not in this reality,” Anya answered absently, flipping another page.

Riley’s eyebrows drew together. “Okay, let me get this straight. A spell made Buffy have a dream that she and a human version of Spike were together, and now they’re dating?” Willow nodded hesitantly. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “Only in Sunnydale. Buffy-”

“This is none of your business!” Buffy cut him off. “We broke up. You don’t get to have an opinion anymore.”

Riley frowned at her. “Look, things are really busy back in…well, that’s classified. I didn’t have to come out here when Xander called, but I did because I’ll always care for you, Buffy. I’m sorry that I hurt you, but Spike isn’t the answer.”

Buffy’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god, I’m not…you…” She took a steadying breath. “This has nothing to do with you,” she said firmly. Riley didn’t look convinced

“Oh for god’s sake.” Giles pinched the bridge of his nose and removed his glasses. “Enough. Regardless of your reasoning, this dalliance has to end, Buffy. You cannot keep blithely ignoring what Spike is. You are the Slayer! He should have been dust long before now.”

Buffy inhaled, her entire body snapping to attention. She turned to her Watcher. “You didn’t. Please.” Her voice cracked. She looked back at Riley “Please tell me you didn’t.” Her insides felt like they were twisting themselves into knots.  

Riley shot a guilty look at Giles. “Uh, they’re just on a routine sweep, I swear.” He held up one hand solemnly like the boy scout he’d no doubt once been.

Buffy felt her rage boiling up inside her. She took a step towards Riley. “If anything happens to him…” she hissed, unable to come up with an appropriate threat. Her entire body was trembling with suppressed tension. “He’s chipped, Riley. You tell your goons to leave him the hell alone.”

Riley lifted his eyebrows at Giles over her head and Buffy snapped. She grabbed the front of his ugly green sweater and dragged him down to her eye level. Riley yelped in surprise and put his hand over hers where it was twisted into the fabric. “This is between you and me,” she hissed. 

“Buffy, I swear, they haven’t been ordered to do anything but surveillance,” Riley soothed. “I’m sure Spike’s just fine.”

A distant buzzing started in Buffy’s ears. She blinked back sudden tears. “What if…I can’t…” She shook Riley a little and hoped his teeth were rattling. Her heart felt like it might thunder out of her chest. “He’d better be,” she finally choked out.  

Riley put another hand over hers and tried to pry her fingers off his sweater. He peeked over her shoulder, his expression concerned. “Uh, Giles? Can you…?”

“I’m working on it,” Giles said distantly. Buffy tried to focus. There were still a couple hours of daylight left, and Spike was usually up by now. Maybe he’d gotten into the sewers before any commandos had spotted him. Maybe he was at her house right now wondering where she and Dawn were. Maybe… “Ah, yes, thank you Willow. It’s quite harmless, Riley. I’ll explain afterwards.”

“What?” Riley asked in alarm. “Uh…wait-”

“ _Alucinatio Mentis,_ ” Giles intoned.

Buffy’s eyes rolled up in her head as she pitched forward. Her last thought was that Spike was going to be so mad that Riley had been in their ranchhouse.  

***

Willow edged out from behind the couch, her eyes wide. She stared first at Buffy and Riley, who had collapsed in undignified heaps on the floor, then at Giles, who was worriedly watching them sleep.

“It needed to be done,” Giles finally said.

Xander nodded cautiously. “Uh-huh, sure. How long does this take anyways?

Giles glanced at Willow and Tara, who both shrugged. “There’s really no way to tell,” Willow said. “However long it takes for the fantasy to play out.” She eyed Giles curiously. “Whose is it?”

Giles sighed and gave his glasses a good polish before answering. “I’m assuming Riley’s, since he seemed to have been fully under before she was.” He nodded at the floor. Buffy was lying partially on top of Riley, her head angled in a way Willow was pretty sure was going to hurt later.

“So, we’ve got time to order a pizza?” Xander asked hopefully.

Anya looked up from her magazine. “I’m certainly hungry after listening to all that arguing. Giles should pay, since now we have to keep Buffy from killing Riley when they wake up again.”

“What?” Willow sputtered. “Buffy’s not going to kill Riley!”

“It sure looked like it before, you know, this happened.” Anya gestured at the two figures lying on Giles’ living room rug.

Giles frowned thoughtfully. “She is rather inordinately attached to Spike. If these dreams are as powerful as they seem to be, let’s hope this opens Buffy’s eyes to other realities.”

Willow chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “I don’t think she likes Riley that much anymore,” she offered uncertainly.  

“She merely needs to come to her senses,” Giles replied. “If these dreams are showing her what her life could be like with whomever she’s sharing it with, having a different partner should be jarring. Spike cannot possibly be her true choice.”

There was a long pause as they all watched Buffy and Riley sleep on, oblivious. Tara finally broke the silence. “But…what if he is?” Everyone turned to look at her.

Giles straightened his shoulders confidently. “He won’t be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @badwolfdarkjedi made me these amazing gifts that I had to share! The other is at the end, as a reward for making it that far. They're so beautiful! 
> 
>  
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/E1a2G3h)  
> 


	2. Sh-Boom (Life Could Be a Dream)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Reader, 
> 
> I'm sure right now you're thinking: "Oh my god, Gort's gone off the rails. Who wants to read about Riley's creepy fantasies? I didn't sign up for this!" I pinky-swear that this is a Spuffy story through and through, don't you worry. Mostly I just needed an excuse to make Spike wear another hat. 
> 
> Love, Gort

Buffy opened her eyes and smiled. The sun was just peeking in her window and the tree outside was swaying gently in the breeze, its leaves just starting to turn yellow around the edges. She sighed and snuggled under the covers for a minute more, listening to the birds sing.

“Buffy, time to get up!” a voice called from downstairs.

“I’m up, Mother!” Buffy called back. She tossed aside her blankets and sat up with a yawn and a stretch.

After making her bed and fluffing the pink pillows that matched her flowered bedspread, Buffy headed to the bathroom to get ready for school. She washed her face and carefully took the big rollers out of her hair, letting the curls fall around her shoulders. She hummed happily as she brushed her hair—one hundred strokes, no more, no less— and pulled it back in a ponytail. She retrieved her blusher from its hiding place behind the extra soap and quickly added a little pink to her cheeks. Her mother was of the opinion that her complexion didn’t need any enhancement, but Buffy liked the rosy glow the forbidden cosmetic gave her.

“Buffy!” Joyce called again. “Breakfast is ready!”

“Be right down!” Buffy replied, quickly returning the compact to its hiding spot. She hurried to her room and got dressed in the clothes she’d laid out the night before: a white blouse with a peter pan collar, a full skirt with a pretty rose pattern on it, and a green sweater. She opened her top dresser drawer and contemplated her options for a minute before picking a pretty ribbon in the perfect shade of green to compliment her outfit. She tied it around her ponytail with a practiced hand and tugged on the bow until it was just the right size before slipping into her favorite saddle shoes. She straightened her ankle socks and took one last look in the mirror, smiling happily at her reflection. Perfect.

Buffy headed downstairs with a spring in her step and found her mother pouring a glass of orange juice in the kitchen.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Joyce set the glass next to a plate piled high with pancakes and smothered in syrup, her heels clacking against the yellow tiled linoleum. Buffy noticed that her mother was wearing a new dress. Probably another one of Dad’s apologies for having to travel so often lately. This one was a field of tiny white flowers against a navy blue background. It reminded Buffy of the night sky, with the pearls her mother always wore standing in for the Milky Way. Her professors would be glad to know she at least remembered some of the things from class, even if her grades weren’t the best.

“Good morning!” Buffy replied cheerfully.

“Your father said he’ll be home for dinner tonight, so no dilly-dallying with your handsome young man after classes, Buffy. I’ll need your help.” Joyce straightened the ribbon in Buffy’s hair as Buffy nodded and sat down to her breakfast.

“Yes, Mother.”

***

A short while later, Buffy closed the front door behind her and stepped onto the front porch, her books in her arms. She took a deep breath of fresh air. The sky was a brilliant blue without a cloud in sight and the temperature was just right, not too hot or too cold. It was another beautiful day in Sunnydale. She stepped lightly down the porch stairs, happy to see that there was no big car idling at the curb. That meant she wasn’t late yet.

She walked down the sidewalk towards the house next door just in time to see Riley emerge from it. He lifted a hand her way and Buffy waved back, hurrying a little now. They met in front of Riley’s parent’s house.

“Good morning,” Buffy chirped, tipping her head back.

“Morning, babe.” Riley graced her lips with a brief kiss before slinging his arm around her shoulders. “Did you ask you mom about dinner?”

Buffy snuggled in happily against her boyfriend as they walked towards the curb. He was such a gentleman, never pressuring her, like she’d been warned boys sometimes did, to go any further than kissing. He was just the kind of guy a mother would approve of, and Buffy’s certainly did. “I asked last night. Mom said that Daddy will be home this weekend, is that okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell my folks,” Riley gave her shoulder a pat and pulled away to walk around the powder blue Chevy Bel Air parked on the street. The car was spotless, as usual. Buffy hadn’t known much about cars when Riley had first gotten this one, but he’d been kind enough to explain all sorts of things about it to her, including its proper make and model in case anyone ever asked. Most of the time, of course, Riley was there with her, so she hadn’t had a chance to show off her new knowledge yet.

Buffy opened the passenger door and slid inside, setting her books next to her. Riley joined her a moment later, slamming his door behind him. The engine started with a loud roar and Riley steered the car into the road and towards Sunnydale University. He rested his arm on the seatback and gave Buffy’s ponytail a tug. “You look very pretty today.”

Buffy blushed, pleased that he’d noticed. “Thank you.”

“What’s your first class again?”

“It’s Professor Gregory’s. English literature,” Buffy replied. She really liked the elderly professor’s lectures. He was tough but fair, and he was always calling on her to answer questions like he thought she actually had something to contribute other than a pretty face. It was flattering; although she was pretty sure his optimism was a bit misplaced. He was a terribly smart man, and she was just a twenty year old girl.

Riley made a face. “I’m taking one of his too. He’s a toughie.”

“I really like it so far,” Buffy said thoughtfully. “Even though it is kind of hard. He’s been giving us a lot of reading to do. He told us that every book is an opportunity to learn something new.”

Riley gave her ponytail another affectionate tug. “Don’t think too hard, babe. You don’t want wrinkles.”

He winked at her and Buffy laughed. “I won’t end up in glasses, I promise.”

“Good,” Riley said, chuckling. “The star quarterback can’t date a nerd.” He grinned at her. “Or marry one.”

Buffy felt a thrill run through her. He’d been dropping hints for the last couple of weeks that he was finally ready to settle down, now that he was in his senior year at Sunny U. Buffy had already started sneaking her mother’s magazines into her room before bed, looking at the advertisements for pretty dresses and dreaming about her wedding gown. 

She glanced at Riley. His hair was cut short, in the style she knew his father approved of, and his letterman jacket proudly labeled him a member of the varsity football team. She remembered seeing him the very first day she and her parents had moved into the house next to his, but he hadn’t noticed her until she’d joined the cheerleading squad as a lowly sophomore in high school. She still remembered how giddy she’d felt when he’d asked her to the homecoming dance. The other girls had been so jealous that Buffy had caught the attention of the most popular senior in school. And now she was going to marry him. It was like a fairytale.

“Want me to ask the professor to go easy on you?” Riley asked casually.

Buffy was startled out of her daydream of a summer wedding with mountains of pink flowers. “No, thank you. He’s really not so bad. Maybe he’s easier on the underclassmen.”

“Well, let me know. Hey, want to go down to the beach this afternoon? Graham and some of the guys are all going.”

Buffy shook her head regretfully. “I can’t, Riley, I’m sorry. I promised Mom I’d help with dinner tonight.”

Riley gave her an easy smile. “That’s all right. I can’t be mad about you learning your way around the kitchen. Hey, there’s an idea, have you thought about taking another one of those home-ec courses instead of Professor Gregory’s class?”

Buffy bit her lip, trying to hide her wince. She’d nearly failed her last home economics course and she was fairly certain she’d been banned from the whole department after setting one of the practice stoves on fire during a one-on-one tutoring session. Luckily, her teacher had been understanding enough to give Buffy a passing grade as long as she did all the remaining lessons at home. Joyce was the only one who knew about that little mishap, since she’d had to help Buffy complete her coursework.

“I’ll look into it,” she said noncommittally.

Riley looked pleased. “Great.” They pulled into the school parking lot and he waved at a group of boys wearing jackets just like his. “See you after classes, babe.” He leaned across the seat and gave Buffy another quick peck before they climbed out of the car. Riley made a beeline for his friends as Buffy waved goodbye and headed towards the English department. She hoped Willow had saved her a seat.

***

“Buffy!” Willow waved from their usual spot about halfway up the tiered seats in the small auditorium. Buffy hurried to her place, dropping her books on the small desk next to her friend. Willow’s short red hair was accessorized by a bright blue bandana that matched her colorful slacks and made Buffy smile. Willow had been dressing up more and more lately, even though she claimed fashion was ‘just another yoke designed to keep women subservient’. Buffy wondered whose eye Willow was obviously keen on catching. Her friend hadn’t mentioned any boys in ages.

“Did you see Professor Gregory in the hall?” Willow asked curiously.

Buffy shook her head. “Is he late?” She frowned at the clock on the wall, which showed a minute past the hour. “That’s not like him.”

Willow let out a disappointed sigh. “I even made a list of all the reasons why this book is an argument for a utopian matriarchal society.” 

Buffy picked up her copy of their assigned book and held it up for Willow to see. “Breakfast at Tiffany’s?” she asked, perplexed. “Did I read the right book?”

Willow nodded eagerly. “See, Holly is a symbol for…”

“Excuse me; may I have your attention?” A loud voice cut through the classroom chatter.

Buffy and Willow both faced front. The man at the front of the lecture hall looked vaguely familiar, and the dusting of chalk across one jacket sleeve confirmed he was another professor. Buffy lifted her eyebrows questioningly at Willow, who had taken more classes than anyone Buffy knew—and that included Riley, who had been attending Sunny U for two years longer than her friend.

Willow leaned closer. “Professor Buchanan,” she whispered. “He’s awful, always yelling about proper decorum and the decay of decency in modern society. His syllabus hasn’t changed in thirty years.”

Buffy made a mental note not to take any of his classes, even though she probably would secretly agree with him about the decaying society part. Thank goodness her boyfriend was so sweet and patient and willing to get married before they did anything her mother wouldn’t approve of.

Buffy blushed, remembering the time just after Riley had started his college classes when she’d been so worried he’d find some wild college woman while Buffy was still stuck in high school. She’d even considered offering to do…more than kissing with Riley, but he hadn’t ever pushed for it. She wouldn’t have known what to do anyways, so it was really for the best. Buffy tried to be extra attentive to him in other ways. She’d even given up cheerleading when she came to college so she had more time to learn how to be the perfect partner, ready to support her husband in whatever way he might need.

Luckily, Willow was an excellent source of salacious gossip so Buffy could live vicariously through other people’s ups and downs. She’d heard more than one horror story about a girl who’d given in to her boyfriend’s charms and had to be shipped off to a distant cousin. Buffy was a little unsure how a woman could actually lose her head and forget the consequences, but maybe they’d done it for the same reasons she’d considered giving herself to Riley. Of course, Riley would have done right by her, but it was nice they hadn’t had to worry about anything like that.

“Ready?” Willow was standing up beside her.

“Huh?” Buffy looked around the classroom, noticing that everyone else was starting to file out the door. “Did he say where Professor Gregory is?”

“Just that class was cancelled for today. Boy, you were really zoned out.” Willow smiled at her. “You must have something good to tell me. Want to go grab something from the cafeteria? I didn’t have breakfast and I’m starved.”

“Men like their women with a little meat on their bones, Willow,” Buffy chided gently, standing and picking up her books. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Proper nutrition is a little higher on my priority list than men finding me attractive, but I appreciate the concern.”

Buffy laughed and linked arms with her best friend. “Fine, and I’ll catch you up on my news.”

***

Willow stared at her doubtfully over the rim of her coffee cup. Buffy had opted for a more fattening glass of milk. Her mother was always telling her she needed to gain another ten pounds but Buffy’s body had been stubbornly resistant so far. At the moment though, both the milk and her mother were the furthest things from her mind.

Buffy frowned at her friend. “Aren’t you happy for me? Riley’s going to ask me to marry him!”

Willow lowered her gaze and made a noncommittal noise. “But…Buffy, don’t you want to finish school?”

Buffy shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. She actually did like attending classes, but once she married Riley there wouldn’t be time for any of that. He was going to start working for his father, who did something important for the city, and Buffy would need to take care of everything at home. “I won’t need to.” Buffy flashed her friend a small smile.

Willow leaned forward, her expression serious. “Buffy, don’t you _want_ to?”

Buffy waved a hand impatiently. “It won’t matter. I’m sure I’ll be too busy.”

“But-”

“Hey, babe,” Riley plopped down into the chair next to Buffy and snagged her glass of milk, downing it in one gulp. “Did your class let out early?”

Buffy beamed at her boyfriend. “Riley! I thought you’d be in class or I would have looked for you. No, Professor Gregory is out, apparently.”

Riley smirked. “Yeah? That’s great news. Less work for all of us, huh?” He nudged Buffy’s arm.

Buffy glanced at Willow, who was staring into her coffee, her lips pressed into a thin line. She sighed. She knew Willow wasn’t Riley’s biggest fan, but it hurt that her best friend and her boyfriend didn’t get along that well. Buffy had known Willow since she’d first transferred to Sunnydale High School, after her parents had decided to move out of the city to a more tranquil town. She didn’t want to lose her oldest friend over something as silly as finishing school.

“Ri!” someone called. “Think fast!”

Buffy and Willow both shrieked and ducked as a football came flying towards their table. Riley stood and snagged the ball out of the air easily before tossing it back to Graham, sitting down again with a laugh. Willow glared at him, and Buffy chewed worriedly on her lower lip. She sent Willow a pleading glance and hoped her friend wouldn’t start another argument with her boyfriend.

“So,” Willow finally said, her voice carefully neutral. “I heard you’ve got something big to look forward to.” Buffy let out a relieved breath and blushed a little, turning to Riley.

Riley grinned at Willow. “Right? We’re definitely on track for the championship this year.” He straightened his shoulders proudly. “Coach said he’s never seen a better arm.” Buffy tried to keep her smile from slipping off her face. Of course he wouldn’t know Willow was talking about their upcoming engagement. He didn’t know that Buffy had told her friend about it. She was just being silly, there was no reason for her to be upset. 

Willow darted a glance at Buffy, her brows drawing together. “Uh, that’s great. Except I meant about you and Buffy.” She gestured at Buffy and Riley looked surprised for a minute.

“Oh, sure,” Riley draped an arm around Buffy’s shoulders and squeezed her for a second. “Can’t let a girl like this get away, can I?” He kissed Buffy’s cheek noisily, making her blush harder.

“Riley!” Buffy giggled and pushed him away. “People are looking!”

Riley dropped his arm, chuckling, and leaned back in his chair. “You coming to the game this weekend?” he asked Willow. “Two more wins and we’ll be in the playoffs.”

Willow shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know a lot about football.”

“You should come, get out of the library and see what a real man looks like,” Riley told her. He turned to Buffy. “Right, babe?” Buffy saw Willow’s expression darken and decided she’d better head this off before Riley ended up on the receiving end of another woman’s rights lecture. If she didn’t know better she’d say he teased Willow like that on purpose, but Buffy knew he meant well.

“Right,” Buffy echoed, laying a hand on his arm. She smiled sweetly at him. “How about we come watch one of your practices this week and I can tell Willow the little bit I know about football?”

“It’s always nice to have a pretty girl in the stands,” Riley smiled at her, then glanced at Willow. “Or two,” he amended. He stood up again, his expression distracted. “Gotta go, babe. I’ll see you later.” He jogged across the room and caught up with his friends just as they were leaving the cafeteria.

Buffy’s heart sank a little in disappointment. She’d been hoping he might want to have lunch together since she couldn’t go to the beach later. It seemed like Riley was always too busy to spend time with her lately, though her mother had told her that other things just came first when it came to men and their relationships. Buffy wondered for a brief second what it would be like if someone did put her first, then shook away the thought guiltily. That just wasn’t how the world worked. She shouldn’t be selfish.

Willow heaved a sigh. “Please tell me you won’t actually make me go to a practice with you.”

Buffy shook her head. “It’s fine, I’ll tell him you got busy. But maybe you could keep me company at the game this weekend to make up for it?”

Willow grimaced. “Oh, all right, but I’m bringing a book to read.”

Buffy laughed. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

***

PRESENT DAY

Everyone in the room started as the front door of Giles’ apartment burst open.

“Watcher,” Spike barked, dropping a smoldering blanket to the floor and kicking it for good measure. “We’ve got a problem. You seen Buffy?”

Giles lifted his eyes to the ceiling, seemingly asking for patience. Xander edged cautiously to one side, away from where Riley and Buffy were sprawled on the carpet and hidden from Spike’s view by the couch. “What are you doing here?” Giles asked the vampire.

Spike took a step further into the room and everyone twitched nervously. Willow twisted her hands together and glanced at Giles for guidance. Xander took another step to the side, moving behind the chair Anya was curled up in.

Spike’s lip curled up in a sneer. “Looking for my girl, Watcher, I told you: we’ve got a problem. Bunch of those Initiative blokes were in my crypt earlier, and I thought we’d seen that last of them after that idiot-soldier finally skipped town.” He looked around at the others, and narrowed his eyes. “You having a little meeting behind her back?” He took another step towards the center of the room, his nostrils flaring. “What the hell do I have to do to prove I’d never hurt-” He stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath, then his eyes widened.

Giles stood his ground as the angry vampire bore down on him. Spike stopped inches from the Watcher’s face, his hands clenching into fists. “She’s here,” Spike growled. “Where-” He inhaled sharply, catching sight of Buffy curled up on the living room rug, her head propped up at an awkward angle against Riley’s chest. “Buffy!”

“She’s fine,” Giles started to say, his tone annoyed. “Really, there’s no need to…”

Spike had already scooped Buffy off the floor and into his arms, cradling her limp body against his chest. “What have you…” Spike stumbled, his eyes starting to roll up in his head. “Oh blo-” He collapsed backwards into one of the chairs, still holding tightly to Buffy.

“Bloody hell,” Giles finished with a sigh. He yanked his glasses off his face.

“Huh.” Willow studied Buffy and Spike, both deeply asleep now. “I’d been wondering if that was possible. Do you think-”

Tara cleared her throat and nodded towards Giles, who was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe later, sweetie,” she whispered.

Giles settled his glasses back on his face and frowned at everyone. “We’ll just have to wait it out. Hopefully Spike’s influence will be minimal.”

“Right,” Xander agreed, nodding decisively. “In the meantime, what are we thinking? Hawaiian?”


	3. I Only Have Eyes For You

“Bye!” Buffy called to her mother, closing the front door behind her. Her routine this morning had been surprisingly lacking in the happy-making, and even her secret little compact of blusher hadn’t really brightened her mood. Buffy blamed it on the fact that Riley had been busier than ever. He was a senior now, not to mention the fact that he was carrying the whole football team on his broad, capable shoulders. Buffy sighed glumly, and clutched her books to her chest. At least she had their big dinner to look forward to this weekend. Her mother was going to be thrilled about the engagement.

Buffy squinted into the bright sunlight and noticed that Riley’s Chevy was idling at the curb in front of her house. Crackers, now she was late, too. Riley leaned over to peer out the open passenger-side window. “Come on, babe!”

Buffy hurried down the sidewalk and went to open the heavy car door, tossing her books inside and sliding in after them. “I’m sorry,” she said breathlessly, smoothing down her skirt. The original outfit she’d set out to wear this morning had a stain on it that she hadn’t noticed until she’d gone down to breakfast. Joyce had shooed her back upstairs to change, which had taken Buffy forever. This skirt was a new one, pink with black polka-dots, and she’d still been able to wear her favorite pink sweater with it, though she’d had to change her hair ribbon to a black one. She hadn’t had time to eat after getting herself ready again, so maybe that was why she was so cranky this morning. She tried to smile at Riley. He hadn’t been anything but perfect lately; there was no reason to take out her frustrations on him.  

They pulled away from the curb and Riley whistled along to a tune on the radio that Buffy recognized as one they’d danced to at her senior prom. Riley had been generous enough to escort her even though he’d been in college for two years by then. Buffy had felt like a princess that night, and Riley had even gotten her a corsage that matched her dress. “I love this song,” Buffy said. Her smile was more genuine now. Practice made perfect, her mother always said.

“Yeah?” Riley glanced at her. “I thought it was a new one.”

Buffy shook her head. “No, we danced to it once, remember?”

Riley glanced at her, amused. “Sure, babe.”

Buffy’s smile slipped off her face. He didn’t remember; he was just humoring her. Her father got that same tone in his voice when he was trying to placate her mother. She sighed and turned to stare out the window as the houses all slid by. Every one of them was a different color but underneath they were all the same, just like her days lately. Buffy shifted in her seat, restless. She wondered what Riley would say if she suggested they do something wild, like have a midnight picnic, or…or…go to the city to see a doo-wop band. He’d probably ask if she was coming down with something, she thought regretfully.

Riley slung his arm along the back of the bench seat and tugged on her ponytail familiarly. Buffy pulled her hair out of his grasp, inexplicably annoyed, but Riley didn’t seem to notice, drumming his fingertips on the plush seatback. They were vinyl in cream and blue, the latest style. Riley had spent at least a week regaling her with all the details of his new car when it’d first arrived, down to the type of stitching used on the seats.

“Tell you what,” Riley said jovially. “We’ll go get a soda this weekend at the place you like so much. Take a trip down memory lane, huh?”

“Sure,” Buffy said, trying to rally her spirits. “That sounds nice.”

“Great,” Riley replied, steering them into the parking lot at Sunny U. He parked and leaned over, giving Buffy the usual perfunctory kiss. Something she’d read fluttered through her mind, a snippet about a woman being so afraid of being caged she’d caged herself. The thought was gone almost as soon as it formed, but Buffy couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that it left behind.

***

“Buffy!” Willow called eagerly, hurrying towards her as Buffy turned down the hall towards their class.

“Is it cancelled again?” Buffy asked.  

Willow waved her hand impatiently. “No, no, we got a new teacher!”

Buffy furrowed her brow. “Is Professor Gregory okay?”

“I don’t know, but listen,” Willow leaned in close, dropping her voice. “I heard the new professor is from _Europe_. Isn’t that great?” Willow looked positively thrilled.

Buffy blinked, unsure as to why that made any difference at all. “I guess?”

“Don’t you see? Maybe we’ll get to read more, uh, interesting things.” Willow was practically vibrating with excitement as she glanced around to see if anyone was eavesdropping and her voice fell to a whisper. “Things that the patriarchy wouldn’t want us to know.”

Buffy barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Willow was always talking about the ‘patriarchy’ like it was some sort of nefarious shadow-man. As far as Buffy could make out, her friend just meant people in charge, plus pretty much anyone who’d ever disagreed with Willow. “I guess he could, but,” Buffy replied hesitantly, “won’t he have to follow Professor Gregory’s syllabus? I mean, classes started a while ago.” Surely the school wouldn’t let some new professor just breeze in and completely disrupt the semester. There had to be rules against that kind of thing.

Willow sighed and clutched her books closer to her chest. “Don’t rain on my parade, Buffy. A girl can dream.”

“Sorry.” Buffy smiled apologetically at her friend. “Let’s go in and see what this radical professor has in store for us.” She linked arms with Willow and they strolled into the classroom.

Buffy’s steps faltered as they walked through the doorway and she caught sight of their new professor. Willow said something, but Buffy couldn’t make heads or tails of her friend’s words. The man who was going to be taking over for Professor Gregory was nothing like what she’d expected.

He was leaning back against the desk, frowning at a sheaf of papers in his hand, though that expression did nothing to detract from his handsome face. Buffy’s eyes followed the line of his sharp cheekbone down to his full lips and felt something stir deep in her belly. Her heart started to beat faster as her gaze swept down, taking in the rest of him. He wore a gray suit, the jacket unbuttoned over a crisp white dress shirt and a skinny blue tie that was slightly crooked. Buffy could barely stop herself from going over to straighten it out, making sure it was centered just so before sliding her hands down his chest, smoothing out any wayward wrinkles and…

“Buffy?” Willow’s voice sounded like it was coming from underwater, interrupting Buffy’s thoughts. The professor looked their way, and Buffy froze, transfixed. He had the loveliest blue eyes she’d ever seen. Someone nudged Buffy as they brushed past her and she stumbled for a moment before Willow caught her elbow. “Are you okay?” Willow asked in concern.

Buffy could feel the new professor’s eyes on her, and she thought her face must be redder than her forbidden compact of blusher. Still, she couldn’t stop her eyes from straying his way again as she and Willow moved past him. His hair almost touched his collar in the back, though it was swept up and away from his face. The ends were a slightly lighter shade of brown than the rest, probably free of whatever he was using to slick it back. Buffy had a sudden vision of herself running her hands through that hair and bumped into whoever was in front of her.

“Sorry,” Buffy blurted out, mortified, as the student turned to glare. What was wrong with her?

The professor set his papers on the desk next to a gray fedora and gazed at her, his blue eyes full of something she desperately hoped wasn’t pity. “Alright there?” he asked, his lips quirking up in a small smile. Buffy opened her mouth and closed it again, trying to figure out how to answer. She wasn’t sure if things were definitely not alright, or the most right they’d ever been.

“She’s really worried about Professor Gregory,” Willow answered for her, patting Buffy’s arm.

“Ah,” the professor said. Buffy couldn’t seem to get her brain to work. How was this man old enough to be a professor? He wasn’t nearly as white-haired or wrinkly as she’d expected. “He’s had to take some time for his family, but I can promise you he’s well.” The new professor’s eyes swept from Buffy’s face to her toes and back up again. Buffy was inexplicably grateful that she’d worn her new skirt this morning, even if it did feel like the room was too hot for so many layers. “Miss…?”

Buffy’s mouth was so dry she wasn’t sure she’d be able to speak. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Buffy,” she finally managed, her tone breathless. She immediately blushed harder. “I mean, Summers. Buffy Summers.” Buffy was certain she was about to spontaneously combust from embarrassment. Willow was looking at her strangely.

The professor’s smile widened. “Miss Summers,” he murmured. Buffy’s knees trembled at the sound of her name tumbling from those lips. “It’s good of you to be so concerned. I’ll pass along your best wishes.”

Buffy nodded as regally as she could manage before allowing Willow to tug her away. They made it to their regular seats and she sank down gratefully, glad her wobbly legs had made it that far.

Willow leaned over. “Are you sure you’re okay?” her friend hissed.

“Uh-huh,” Buffy said absently. She undid the top button of her blouse, still feeling overheated, and peeled off her pink sweater, letting it carelessly drop onto her seat behind her. She propped her chin on one hand, eyes locked on the front of the classroom.

Willow followed her gaze. “Um, okay.” She sounded perplexed. “But-”

“May I have your attention?” The professor stood up straight and looked around the lecture hall. “As I’m sure you’ve realized by now, Professor Gregory is, unfortunately, unable to complete the semester and I’ll be taking his place.” His eyes landed on Buffy and she felt a thrill run up her spine. “He’s well, for those of you who might be concerned. I’m William Pratt, and as you may have guessed from the accent, not from around here.”

A ripple of laughter went through the room.

“So,” Professor Pratt said briskly, picking up the papers he’d been holding earlier. “According to your syllabus you’ve just finished a Capote novel. We’ll wrap up discussion on that today and then you can toss this.” He demonstrated by carelessly flipping the papers he’d been holding to one side, letting them flutter to the floor. Several of the students whooped and soon papers were littering the aisles around the room.

Buffy’s eyes dropped to Professor Gregory’s list of novels and poems they’d been planning on covering this semester and then back up to the new professor. A tiny smile played around his mouth as she carefully folded her syllabus and tucked it into her notebook, meeting his gaze steadily. She understood that he was making the class his own, but Professor Gregory had been nothing but kind to her and she wanted to finish reading those books he’d planned on assigning someday. She lifted her chin defiantly and the professor finally looked away.

“Right, so, someone tell me what false ideals Holly embodies in this novel. Anyone?” The professor cast his gaze around the room as Willow’s hand shot up.

Buffy started doodling idly in her notebook, her chin propped on her hand once more. Professor Pratt pointed at someone on the other side of the room, causing his jacket to lift slightly and revealing the snug fit of his trousers from his beltline to the curve of his rear and all the way down the long line of his leg. Buffy’s throat was dry again. She shifted slightly in her seat and undid another button of her blouse. The professor’s eyes strayed her way even as the person he’d called on was still stumbling through their answer. Buffy’s breath hitched as his gaze came to rest on her once more.

“This is going to be great,” Willow said fervently in the seat next to her.

Buffy nodded, in complete agreement.

***

Class was over before Buffy realized it, and Willow was nudging her impatiently.

“Earth to Buffy,” Willow teased. “Where have you been for the last hour?”

Buffy was pretty sure Willow didn’t want to know anything about where her mind had wandered during their class, since it involved an incredible pair of blue eyes and an embarrassing amount of pink rose petals and champagne. Buffy’d never had champagne before, but it seemed like something a sophisticated man like the professor would enjoy. “Um, sorry, I just kind of zoned out. I guess I didn’t sleep that well last night.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Right, I forgot you have that big dinner this weekend.”

“Hm?” Buffy gathered up her books and tucked them in the crook of one arm. It felt like she was practically floating as she and Willow headed for the classroom door. They were almost the only ones left, the new professor still gathering his papers and stuffing them into a satchel as he nodded goodbye to the last few stragglers. William, Buffy remembered him saying his first name was. It was a very good name. Buffy didn’t think she’d ever known a professor’s first name before.

“The dinner?” Willow repeated. “Isn’t that why you’ve been Miss Head-in-the-Clouds?”

“Oh.” Buffy abruptly felt herself thump back down to earth. What was she doing, thinking about one of her professors that way? Those were the kinds of things girls only did with their boyfriends, and she had one of those already. A wonderful, loyal boyfriend who was strong and handsome and who also had a perfectly decent name. “Um, yeah, sorry.” She managed a weak smile.

Professor Pratt looked up just then. “Ladies.” He smiled. “It was lovely to meet you. I hope you enjoyed the class.” His eyes seemed to linger on Buffy and she felt herself start to overheat again.

“What are we going to cover next?” Willow asked eagerly.

Buffy reached up and twirled a lock of blonde hair absently around her finger, pulling her ponytail partway over her shoulder. “Excellent question,” the professor said but his eyes stayed on Buffy. Almost without thought, she moved her hand down to her collar and traced along the edge of it, watching his gaze follow her trailing fingers down the open vee of her blouse. The moment she realized what she was doing, Buffy snatched her hand away from her cleavage and blushed furiously. She shifted her books to the center of her chest so both her arms were occupied and her traitorous hands couldn’t do anything even worse, like undo another button.

Willow’s eyes darted between the professor and Buffy, her eyebrows lifting. Professor Pratt cleared his throat and concentrated on closing his satchel, his eyes on the clasp. “But I’m afraid you’ll just have to show up to the next class and see.” He peeked up at Buffy through his long eyelashes and she felt her heartbeat speed up. She bit her bottom lip as he watched her.

“We’ll be there,” Willow chirped, grabbing Buffy’s arm just above the elbow and steering her towards the classroom door. “Bye!” She practically shoved Buffy out into the hall.

Buffy glanced back just before the door closed and caught one last glimpse of the professor as he stared after them. She flashed him a tiny smile and then he was gone from her sight. Buffy sighed gustily even as Willow hustled her down the hall and around the corner before turning to her.

“Buffy!” Willow sounded scandalized. “Were you…please tell me you were not just flirting with Professor Pratt?”

Buffy hunched her shoulders guiltily. “Um, I didn’t mean to?” She stared down at her saddle shoes, scuffing the toe along a seam in the tile floor. She wondered if he thought she looked silly, still dressing like a teenager even though she was old enough to get married.

Willow’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Buffy, you can’t…He’s a professor!”

Buffy wrinkled her nose. “I did notice that part, Willow, thanks.”

“So you shouldn’t be,” Willow’s voice dropped to a whisper, “flirting with him!”

“I didn’t-” Buffy started, but cut herself off as several other students came round the corner, laughing noisily. “It won’t happen again,” Buffy said reluctantly. And it couldn’t, she told herself firmly. She had an almost-fiancé and she was very happy. Besides, there was no way such an intelligent man would be interested in a silly little schoolgirl like her. 

Willow nodded. “Good. I’m sure there are all sorts of rules against that kind of thing.” She made a face. “Plus, he’s got to be way older than us.”

Buffy almost said something about how she really didn’t have a problem with that but decided it would kind of contradict her earlier promise. “I’m sorry,” she said contritely instead. “I don’t know what got into me.” She straightened her shoulders and flashed Willow a small smile. “Want to stop at the library before our next class?” Her friend had become an even more voracious reader than normal lately. 

Willow seemed to relax. “Yeah, sure, Buffy.” She laughed a little ruefully. “Listen to me, one little hint of something out of the ordinary and I’m lecturing you like I’m my mother. I’m a terrible progressive.” Willow patted Buffy’s shoulder and they started walking again. Buffy heard Willow take a deep breath. “Let me try that again without all the judginess. You’ve put yourself under a lot of stress lately, Buffy. I know you’re trying really hard to be who you think Riley wants you to be. But, Buffy, are you sure he’s who you want? I mean, that weird moment with Professor Pratt had to have come from somewhere.”

“What?” Buffy asked, trying to work out Willow’s convoluted thought process. “Of course Riley’s what I want. We’ve been together for almost four years.” Buffy dismissed the fleeting thought that Riley had never made her knees weak when he said her name the way Professor Pratt’s voice had. That wasn’t nearly as important in a marriage as other things. She was just stressed, like Willow said. “We’re going to be very happy together, you’ll see.”


	4. Dream Lover

Willow seemed to have decided to drop her analysis of Buffy’s earlier behavior as they entered the crowded cafeteria for a late lunch. Her friend had quizzed Buffy through their two other shared classes, but then Willow had headed to the library while Buffy attended her last lecture of the day, and now the redhead was in great spirits. Maybe she’d forgotten Buffy’s little lapse. Buffy’d just had a moment of weakness because she’d been missing Riley so much, that was all. She hoped she hadn’t made a complete fool of herself in front of Professor Pratt. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. She hadn’t had much practice at flirting. Since she’d been with Riley she’d learned that men preferred to take the lead in relationships. It’d been quite a relief, honestly. One less thing for her to worry her pretty head over, Riley would say.

Buffy absentmindedly followed Willow through the buffet line, accepting scoops of everything that was offered. It was only when they got to the table that Buffy looked down at her tray and frowned. “Wait, what did I get?”

Willow’s lips quirked up in an amused smile. “Um, looks like mashed potatoes and sloppy joes with some corned beef topping and an unidentifiable green thing for dessert.” 

Buffy made a face at her plate. “I don’t know where my head’s at today.”

Willow made a humming noise. “So I’ve noticed.” She took a bite of her unadulterated mashed potatoes as Buffy watched enviously. “Do you want to talk about, you know, anything?” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Maybe a certain new professor?”

“Willow!” Buffy thought about throwing a roll at her friend, but her mother would be mortified by Buffy’s atrocious table manners, so she refrained. She glanced around the cafeteria but no one seemed to be paying them the slightest attention. “I was just being silly earlier. He…reminded me of Riley,” Buffy finished in a flash of inspiration.

Willow’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh-huh, sure, Buffy. The professor’s so big and tall, always grunting and throwing things during his lectures while wearing a letterman jacket.” She paused for effect. “I can so see the similarities.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “He’s a man and Riley’s a man, okay?” Buffy clarified. “Can we just drop it? I’ve humiliated myself enough for one day. I can’t believe I-”

“Riley!” Willow said suddenly with false cheer. “We were just talking about you.”

“Yeah?” a familiar voice said just behind Buffy. Her eyes widened as she turned in her seat and Riley bent down to give her a perfunctory kiss on her cheek before claiming the chair next to her. “Hey, babe.” Buffy smiled at him, waiting for some feeling, any feeling, to well up as she gazed at him. There was nothing; just relief that Willow hadn’t let her finish her sentence. Buffy shook herself in irritation. She needed to stop comparing him to some man she’d just met and knew nothing about.

Buffy mouthed a quick ‘thank you’ at her friend as Riley pulled Buffy’s untouched tray towards himself and dug into her unintentional potluck-on-a-plate. Buffy was sure Willow’s disgusted look mirrored her own for a moment, but then she pasted on a placid smile instead.

“Hello, Riley. How was your day?” Buffy asked.

Riley frowned. “Not too bad. Hey, did you meet that new teacher who’s replacing Professor Gregory?”

Willow glanced at Buffy, who felt her heartbeat quicken at the mere thought of Professor Pratt. “Yes?” Buffy squeaked out, hoping Riley wouldn’t notice how flushed she suddenly was.

Willow sighed. “We did. He seems cool,” she answered, sending Buffy an exasperated glance.

“We’ll see,” Riley said doubtfully. “Let’s hope he knows what real football even is.”

Willow looked perplexed. “Why would that matter? He’s an English professor.” Buffy was mostly trying to keep her face from betraying that she’d ever thought about Professor Pratt in a less-than-school-related way.

Riley glanced at them, his focused expression melting into a relaxed, easy smile. “School spirit stuff, you know,” he said vaguely. He shoveled another forkful of unidentified food into his mouth.

Buffy fiddled with the top button of her blouse, but she wasn’t overheated anymore, thank goodness. She shivered slightly, then glanced around, letting out a gasp. “My sweater!” she said with dismay.

Willow frowned at her. “Where did you last have it?”

“I had it in…” Buffy’s voice trailed off. She darted a glance at Riley. “I must have left it in one of our classes.”

“You really need to keep better track of your stuff, babe,” Riley said unhelpfully. “You’re coming to watch practice later, aren’t you?”

Buffy sighed. “Of course,” she said, already distracted. She tried to remember if she’d had her sweater in any classroom but Professor Pratt’s, but she remembered all too well what had prompted her to remove it in the first place. She touched the top button of her blouse again, making sure it was fastened. Maybe her sweater was still in the lecture hall. She’d just peek in and grab it and no one would be the wiser.

“Do you want me to come help you look?” Willow asked. “I was just going to get a head start on our homework in the library.”

“No, that’s okay,” Buffy said quickly. “No need to have two of us wasting our time because I can’t keep track of my things.” She stood up and Willow’s eyes narrowed at her suspiciously. Buffy avoided her friend’s gaze, bending down to kiss Riley’s cheek. “See you at practice.”

“See ya, babe,” Riley said distractedly, already waving at someone across the cafeteria. “Try not to get lost on the way there.” He smiled to show he was teasing her before picking up her tray and heading to join his other friends.

“Buffy-” Willow started.

“See you later!” Buffy scooped up her books and hurried out of the cafeteria before Willow could ask any more questions.

***

It took Buffy approximately one minute to determine that her sweater was no longer in the lecture hall, and then another ten minutes to convince herself that it was completely natural for her to go to Professor Pratt’s office to ask if he’d seen it. She would just have to keep her head around him, that was all. Finally, Buffy squared her shoulders and marched down the hall, stopping in front of a door that was slightly ajar. A hastily affixed, handwritten sign that read “Dr. Pratt” told her she was in the right place.

She summoned her courage, lifted her hand to knock, and then paused. She glanced down at her blouse and frowned. Would he notice that it was buttoned up all the way now, even though it hadn’t been earlier? Buffy chewed on her lower lip for a moment, trying to decide what to do. If only she hadn’t drawn his attention to her wardrobe before, this wouldn’t be an issue.

Buffy let out a tiny, exasperated sigh and quickly undid her top two buttons. She couldn’t have Professor Pratt thinking she’d been trying to be…a tease or anything earlier. Because she certainly hadn’t! Her fingers played with the third button down, wondering if she could get away with one more without looking like a floozy. Maybe she should mention something about the classroom being too warm. Yes, that would explain the sweater being left behind as well. Brightening, Buffy undid a third button and lifted her hand to knock again only to have the door swing inward as her knuckles made contact.

Professor Pratt looked as surprised as she felt, blinking at her from his seat behind a large desk and hastily closing a drawer. “I didn’t realize you were there,” he said. “Can I help you, Miss Summers?”

Buffy stepped hesitantly into the small room. There were boxes piled in a corner, some opened, some not, and a picture on the wall of some old guy Buffy didn’t recognize. A large, mostly empty bookcase, a rickety-looking file cabinet and an imposing desk filled the rest of the room. “I, um, think I left something in the classroom,” Buffy said, blushing. The professor was staring at her like he couldn’t comprehend what she was asking and Buffy realized he probably had much more important things to do than worry about her misplaced clothing. “I probably shouldn’t have bothered you about it. I can go.” She took a step back.

“No, no,” Professor Pratt said quickly, standing up. “It’s no bother.” His eyes strayed down to her exposed cleavage before snapping up to her face again, looking slightly guilty. Buffy felt a thrill run through her. He’d remembered her name, and he didn’t seem to mind that she’d undone another button. She moved a little closer to his desk and he cleared his throat. “Where are my manners? Please, have a seat.” He’d shed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, exposing strong, pale forearms. His hat was sitting on an empty shelf behind him, and his tie was still crooked.

Buffy smiled timidly and set her books on the edge of his desk before taking a seat on the small, hard-backed chair in front of it. It was not comfortable, which was probably why someone had chosen it in the first place. It did, however, have the unintentional effect of making her automatically correct her posture—spine straight, shoulders back—and thrusting her chest forward. She blushed harder, and was sure her face must be bright red. Professor Pratt slowly sank down into his own chair. Buffy folded her hands in her lap and studied the top of his desk intently. There were papers strewn across it, like he’d been going through them. “I’m sorry-” she started.

“Can I-” the professor said at the same time.

Buffy peeked up at him. He was holding out a pack of cigarettes sheepishly. “Ah, smoke?”

She shook her head. “No, thanks.”

“Right,” Professor Pratt muttered, mostly to himself she thought. He shook a cigarette out of the pack and tapped it on his desk a few times before sticking it between his lips. Buffy followed every movement he made, her breath quickening. He lit his cigarette with a silver lighter that looked well-loved, his hand shaking slightly. The sound of the lid snapping shut was loud in the small room. He took a long drag and exhaled, the smoke slipping through his lips making something pulse low in Buffy’s belly. His eyes were fixed somewhere near her chin, as though he couldn’t quite bear to lift them from her chest and yet also couldn’t meet her eyes.

They sat in silence until Buffy couldn’t stand it anymore. She nervously twisted her fingers together. “Have you been a professor very long?” Her eyes widened. “I mean, not that you didn’t do a great job, you’re just, um, not very old and…” Buffy sighed. She really needed to stop putting her foot in her mouth, even if her words seemed to cause Professor Pratt to finally relax.

He chuckled and leaned back a little in his chair, exhaling another stream of smoke. “Not long at all,” he confirmed. “Finally earned my degree last year, but I’ve been teaching a while.” He smiled at her and Buffy felt her heart flutter. “Got lucky and heard about this last minute gig.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Buffy said a trifle breathlessly. The professor’s smile got a little warmer and so did Buffy. She shifted in her seat and smiled back at him.

“Maybe not as well as old Professor Gregory,” Professor Pratt replied. “But I promise to do my best, Miss Summers.”

“Buffy,” she blurted, her face heating up further. “You can call me Buffy. I mean, if you wanted to.” She wanted to hear him say her given name almost as badly as she wished she could call him William instead of Professor Pratt.

He glanced down at the papers in front of him and then back up at her before pushing them to one side. “Suppose it is after hours. Buffy.” He nodded at her. “I’m glad you came by.”

Buffy’s entire body lit up with something she didn’t have a name for. She leaned forward slightly, enjoying the way his eyes drifted to her open collar again. “You are?”

He stubbed his cigarette out in an amber-colored glass ashtray and tapped the papers he’d shoved to one side. “Been reading a bit about you, actually.”

Buffy blinked at him, startled. “About me?”

Professor Pratt nodded, thumbing through the top of his haphazard stack of paperwork. “Gregory left me all the notes he had from his classes. Seen your name pop up a few times.” He smiled gently at her. “Seems like you made an impression on him, too.”

Buffy dropped her gaze, embarrassed. “I’m sure he was just being kind.”

“What?” The professor’s puzzled tone drew her eyes up again. He was frowning slightly as he looked at her. “I don’t think he’d mention how well you’ve been doing in his personal notes out of kindness, Buffy.” His expression softened. “I’m looking forward to reading your first paper, actually.”

Buffy was sure her face was the color of a ripe tomato. “I’ve been enjoying his class,” she confessed. “Even if it doesn’t really count for anything.”

“What’s your major?” he asked curiously.

Buffy shrugged. “I haven’t declared.” One of his eyebrows lifted and Buffy noticed a scar running through it. It made him look a little dangerous. He was definitely not like any other professor she’d ever met. She shivered slightly.

“Why not?”

Buffy bit her lip. “I just haven’t,” she said vaguely.

“Well,” the professor said, leaning back in his chair again and fiddling with his cigarette pack. “I’d think about English, if I were you.” He smiled edged into a smirk. “You’re miles ahead of a whole pack of Gregory’s seniors. Think their skulls must be as thick as their helmets.” He winked at her and Buffy giggled, covering her mouth with one hand as she realized he meant the football team.

Buffy knew it was right here, in this moment, that she should tell him that she was about to be engaged and wouldn’t need to finish college, but the words got stuck in her throat. The thought of Riley was like being doused with cold water. She crossed her arms across her chest, feeling chilled, and realized she should be ashamed, sitting in here flirting instead of going to watch her boyfriend’s football practice. It was just so hard to think when she was near the professor.

She cast her eyes to the floor. “I, um, didn’t mean to take up so much of your time, Professor Pratt-”

“William,” he interrupted. Buffy lifted her head, startled. She met his eyes and was struck once again by how blue they were. Her breath caught in her throat. “Please,” he added, his voice soft. “Call me William.” He gestured around the office. “After hours, after all.”

Buffy nodded, trying to find her voice. “Thank you…William.” She was certain he’d notice that his name came out of her mouth with a slight waver. William cleared his throat, looking pleased, and Buffy couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. They sat in silence for a few moments until Buffy suddenly remembered why she was there in the first place. “Oh, I almost forgot!”

William tilted his head to one side, his expression curious. “What’s that?”

Buffy smiled sheepishly. “I was hoping someone might have found a pink sweater. I think I left mine in your classroom.”

His eyes darted to his desk and she would swear for a moment that he looked guilty. “Uh, actually, I believe someone did find it.” She heard the sound of a drawer opening and he held her favorite sweater out to her across the desk. “I thought it might be yours.”

Buffy gratefully accepted the sweater, happy she hadn’t lost it after all. She leaned forward and pulled it on, studiously pretending not to notice the way William was sneaking another peek down her shirt. She fussed with her cardigan a little longer than normal, enjoying how he made her feel so…beautiful. Riley often told her she was pretty, but he never looked at her like this, like she was something he was helpless to resist. She hadn’t noticed a ring on the professor’s finger, but she felt a flash of jealousy towards whatever woman would be the one to enjoy a lifetime of his attention.

Finally, she sat back again and William’s eyes snapped up to hers. “Thank you.” Buffy noticed his face was a little pinker than it had been a minute ago and tried without success to hide her smile. “Um, I guess I’ll see you in class.” She stood up and William stood with her, dropping his cigarette pack on his desk.

“Glad I could help,” he said. His voice was slightly rough. Buffy didn’t want to leave at all. She wanted to sit here in this room with this man and listen to him talk for hours. She wanted to ask him what his favorite kind of music was, and if he liked to dance. She wanted to know where he’d come from, and how different it had been from Sunnydale. She wanted to know him. Her eyes fell to his crooked tie. The knot wasn’t lying flat, causing the whole thing to be perpetually askew. He certainly didn’t live with a woman, she deduced. No female would have let him leave the house like that.

“William?” Buffy asked. She looked back up at his face. She didn’t understand in the slightest how a man who looked like he did was still single.

“Yeah?”

“Can I do something for you?”

William blinked at her, his mouth dropping open slightly. “I don’t…Buffy…” His tone held an edge of panic, like he’d never had anyone offer to do something nice for him before.

She smiled at him reassuringly. “I just…your tie.”

William frowned down at himself and ran a hand down the nubby blue fabric. “What about it?” Now he sounded adorably confused.

Buffy sighed fondly. Men were so helpless, no wonder they all needed full-time wives. She moved around the desk. “May I?” She lifted a hand, hovering it near his chest without touching. Her heart was tripping along in double time as he stepped closer and hesitantly lifted his chin. Buffy willed her hands not to tremble as she reached up to tug out the fold that was causing the entire issue. Her fingers slipped under the edges of the knot and settled it in the correct spot, finally allowing the two ends of his tie to hang straight. It was just a shade too dark to match his eyes. She started to slide her hand down it but caught herself as William’s chest heaved, distracting her.

“Um.” Buffy was sure she couldn’t blush any harder than she was at that moment. She kept her eyes trained on the knot of his tie. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” William’s voice was hoarse. She was standing close enough now that she could smell him, the scent of cigarettes and chalk overlaying something masculine that made her want to do things her mother would definitely not approve of.

Buffy drew in an uneven, shaky breath and stepped back, unable to meet his eyes. “I’ll, um, see you later.” She picked her books up off his desk, turned on her heel, and fled.

***

She barely remembered the walk home. Luckily, her feet knew where they were going. Buffy couldn’t believe her earlier behavior. If Riley had seen her acting like that he would be so disappointed. She needed to get a hold of herself and stop mooning over Will—Professor Pratt. He was her teacher, and Willow had been right to reprimand her. There most certainly had to be rules against that sort of thing. Not to mention how embarrassed the professor would be if he ever found out about the kinds of fantasies she’d been concocting.

Buffy’s fingertips still tingled, reminding her that she’d touched him, had done something  for him that a wife would do, if he’d had one. She didn’t think she’d ever fixed one of Riley’s ties. Of course, he hardly needed to wear one to school, though he would more often once he started working with his father. She’d just been practicing, that was all. She wanted to be a good wife.

She clutched her books tighter to her chest and turned onto her street, staring sightlessly at the houses around her. All the lawns were trimmed precisely and every one of them was green as could be. She could hear children laughing and one of her neighbors waved as she passed their house. Buffy waved back automatically as her house came into sight. She paused to check the mailbox but was distracted by the sound of a loud, rumbling engine.

A wave of panic shot through her and her hand came up make sure she’d rebuttoned her blouse, thinking Riley might be coming home. Buffy’s hand encountered nothing but solid fabric all the way up to her throat, but the car that drove by wasn’t Riley’s at all. It was large and black, with a grill that reminded Buffy of metal teeth. She could see a man in a gray fedora driving it, and her heart soared at the thought that it might be William, but then the car continued down the street and Buffy realized she was being ridiculous. Her professor had no reason to visit her at home. And she had no reason to hope he would. She blew out a breath, shaking her head at her own foolishness. She’d heard of this, of course. She was just getting the jitters about being married. It would pass soon enough, she was sure of it.

Buffy opened the mailbox and retrieved a couple of letters. She walked up the porch steps and opened the front door, calling a hello to her mother before dropping the mail on the hall table and heading up to change so she could help with dinner.

Starting tomorrow, there would be no more flirting with inappropriate men. She was going to be the perfect girlfriend.

***

PRESENT DAY

“Will you stop your incessant chatter about food for one moment?” Giles asked impatiently. He turned to Willow and Tara. “You’ve been researching this spell, yes? My understanding is that the original dreamer creates the false universe, but is forced to follow a realistic course.” 

“That’s right,” Willow said nervously. “But, uh, since Buffy’s the other half, I think she’ll have a lot of influence too.”

“And now Spike might be there.” Giles rubbed the back of his neck wearily. “Perhaps one of us should…”

Willow shook her head vehemently. “It doesn’t work like that, Giles. Once you’re in, you’re like...a character in a play. You don’t remember anything about here.”

Giles’ shoulders slumped. “I see.”

Xander had moved to stand in front of Spike and Buffy, his arms crossed. Buffy’s head was nestled into the crook of Spike’s neck and his cheek was resting on the crown of her head. One of Buffy’s legs was slung over the arm of the chair and the other was tucked up in Spike’s lap. Spike’s arms still cradled her, one under her knee and one encircling her back with his hand cupping her breast.

“I can’t believe this,” Xander complained. “Even when they’re asleep he’s all…touching her.”

Anya frowned. “You said you find it comforting to hold my…”

“Hand!” Xander said loudly, cutting her off and laughing nervously. Willow and Tara both rolled their eyes and Giles seemed to be ignoring them. The Watcher was flipping through a thick text and muttering under his breath.

Tara carefully stepped over Riley and pulled another one of Giles’ books off the shelves. “Do you have more books on dream theory?”

“Check the shelf behind the television,” Giles said distractedly.

Xander turned back to Buffy and Spike, his frown deepening. “What if I just-” He reached for Spike’s bare wrist.

“Xander, no!” Anya, Willow, and Tara chorused.

Giles turned just in time to see Xander collapse to the floor at Spike’s booted feet, already snoring. Giles sighed heavily. “Oh, for pity’s sake. What else could possibly go wrong?”


	5. Can't Take My Eyes Off You

Buffy managed to get through her entire morning routine without a hitch. She’d carefully chosen her clothes to show her team spirit, since it was a game day. Joyce had complimented her at breakfast, saying Buffy’s red skirt with the white rick-rack pattern brought out the color in her cheeks. Buffy, who’d actually forgone her blusher that morning in an attempt to deny temptations of all kinds, had been pleased that her efforts were paying off already. Her white sweater with red trim and a red ribbon around her ponytail had completed the outfit and Riley had complimented her during the drive to school. He’d even told her she looked like a picture before he’d kissed her and they’d parted ways for class.

She’d met with Willow in the hall of the English department and they’d decided to go to the soda shop for lunch, like they did most Fridays, which had the added bonus of getting Buffy off campus and far away from anything or anyone that might be…distracting.

Her resolution to be the best future-wife for one Mr. Riley Finn was going swimmingly, right up until the moment she stepped into her first class.

Professor Pratt was already there, making sure everyone picked up the new syllabus and chatting with the students as they trickled in. His suit was navy blue today, and his tie was a gray stripe against his white shirt. His gray fedora was resting on the desk. Buffy’s steps faltered for a moment before she continued in, her head high. She reminded herself that she was a good girl who didn’t just go around throwing herself at men, no matter how handsome they were. And she already had a boyfriend, she added hastily to her mantra.

She picked up the new syllabus from the corner of the desk and offered William—Professor Pratt! She reminded herself with alarm—a polite smile while she waited for Willow. She was mentally congratulating herself on not acting like a complete fool when the professor caught her eye, shooting her a smile and the hint of a wink as he carefully adjusted the knot of his perfectly straight tie. Buffy felt her legs turn to jelly. Her smile went from being merely polite to just a step away from a bashful giggle, and when he ducked his head shyly, Buffy’s stomach developed the worst case of butterflies since her first day at Sunnydale High.

A happy exclamation from Willow beside her reminded Buffy of where she was and she bit her lip and looked away from the professor, only to watch him out of the corner of her eye as Willow led the her to their seats. She couldn’t tell for sure, but she was almost certain he was watching her too.

“Did you see this?” Willow asked eagerly, poking Buffy with her elbow after they’d sat down.

“Hm?” Buffy asked, craning her neck to see around the rude people who were standing between her and the professor. She’d never sat in the front of a class before in her life, but she was sorely regretting that now. She wondered if she’d be able to smell him as he paced back and forth, that heady combination of tobacco, chalk, and whatever it was that had made her lower belly twinge last night.

A piece of paper blocked her view of the room, making Buffy blink in surprise. She turned in time to see Willow roll her eyes. “Get a grip, Buffy. Look!” She shook the paper and this time Buffy realized it was the syllabus. She frowned at hers, which she hadn’t bothered to look at yet. She smiled again as she saw William’s name typed at the top in black and white. She touched the first letter of his name and Willow snorted. “A little further down, Buffy.”

Buffy blushed and dragged her finger down the page, looking at a list of books and poems a lot like the one Professor Gregory had given them. “Um, what am I looking at?” Buffy asked, perplexed. She didn’t recognize very many titles or authors, but that didn’t tell her much. She’d never paid as much attention to books as Willow had.

Willow leaned in close, her eyes bright. “Some of these are _subversive_!” She whispered the last word with such delight that Buffy almost laughed. The class was starting to quiet down, though it looked like Willow wasn’t the only one who had noticed some unusual names on their syllabi. Buffy saw a couple of girls giggling behind their papers as they watched Professor Pratt write something on the board and Buffy frowned. Her hand strayed up to her top button and she decided that it was Friday and she was entitled to let her hair down a little bit. Er, her collar, rather.

Willow sighed happily at her syllabus as Buffy swiftly undid her top two buttons (three was a bit too daring for regular school hours, she decided) and peeled her sweater off. The room really was warm with all these bodies in it. Buffy’s eyes strayed down William’s back to his behind as he wrote on the chalkboard.

She leaned forward and poised a pen, hoping she looked studious as he turned. She was rewarded with the flash of a smile as he looked at her side of the room and Buffy felt a shiver slide down her spine. Willow was still chattering away beside her about their booklist but Buffy was already lost in another daydream. This one involved a late night visit to William’s office for a wayward sweater, and some more champagne. She really needed to find out if he liked champagne.

“Uh, Buffy?” Willow nudged her with an elbow.

Buffy blinked and sat up straight. It seemed half the class was staring at her. Had Willow let her fall asleep? Buffy felt her face flush.

The professor cleared his throat at the front of the class. “Miss Summers?”

Buffy swallowed. Oh no, had she said something embarrassing out loud? “Yes?” she replied. Please let it not have been his name.

“I was hoping you’d start off the discussion today.” He smiled encouragingly at her. “Could you read us the poem on page three?”

“Oh,” Buffy said, relieved. Thank goodness, she’d just spaced out for a moment. “Of course.” She stood, carefully smoothing her skirt, and Willow (bless her) handed Buffy her paper, turned to the correct page, without a word.

“Dreams,” Buffy started. “By Langston Hughes.”

She glanced up and saw the professor settle himself on the edge of the desk, watching her intently as she read. By the time she got to the end, he was grinning at her, and she was helpless to do anything but smile in return.

***

The walk to the soda shop was a little more exciting than usual. Willow was still in high spirits over their class, chattering along about which book she was going to tackle for their end of semester paper and whether all of her papers until then should contain the same theme or just supporting ones while Buffy floated along beside her, her mind filled with nothing but William.

He’d repeated the same lines she had, encouraging everyone to decipher the implications of the words the author had chosen, but the entire poem had seemed so much more…meaningful, when he’d read it. Buffy had been transfixed, her pen absently doodling hearts in the margins of her paper. Because she loved the poem, she was quick to assure herself when she’d noticed what she was doing. She’d felt simultaneously thrilled and terrified by the words, though the thrilled part may have been mostly due to the timbre of William’s voice. His tone became deeper and huskier when he read aloud, she’d discovered. Almost like the way it’d sounded just before she’d left his office the night before.

Buffy hugged her books even tighter against her chest as their destination came into view. “How does that sound, Buffy?” Willow asked.

“Sounds perfect,” Buffy said dreamily.

“Right?” Willow replied enthusiastically. “Do you think Professor Pratt will like it?”

“Why?” Buffy asked, suddenly suspicious. 

Willow glanced at her in confusion as they entered the Sunnydale Malt Shoppe. “Uh, because he’ll be grading it?” Willow said. “And you’ve been hanging onto his every word, so you might have an opinion?”

“Oh,” Buffy said, inexplicably relieved. “Um, I’m sure he’ll like it. He’s very smart.” She sighed.

Willow’s eyebrows lifted. “Okay,” she said in an indulgent voice. “Let’s get you a malt.”

Buffy perked up. She did love a good malt, and Xander made the best in town. She and Willow plonked themselves onto stools and waved as their old school friend came out from the back carrying a tray of drinks.

“Be right with you ladies,” Xander said cheerfully, heading over to a table of college girls. He was wearing his usual work uniform of slacks and a long-sleeved white button shirt up with a colorful bowtie, his white paper hat perched on his meticulously slicked-back hair. One of the nice things about not being in high school any more was being able to stop at the soda shop during the middle of the day when it wasn’t so crowded. The other nice thing was catching up with Xander, who always knew the latest town gossip since almost everyone got together at either the malt shop or the drive-in place next door.

Buffy stared sightlessly at the specials board behind the counter, remembering how William had looked at her as she’d left class. He’d been erasing the chalkboard and making an absolute mess of his jacket, which had Buffy biting her lip to keep from giggling. He’d glanced up and caught her watching, smiling until he’d looked down at himself, his expression changing to exasperation. Buffy had grinned and William had opened his mouth but Willow had chosen that exact moment to ask the professor for some clarification about their new assignments. Then she’d dragged Buffy out the door without giving her a chance to find out what William had wanted to say.

Willow had also, unfortunately, noticed that Buffy had accidentally-on-purpose left her sweater behind at the end of class, foiling Buffy’s half-formed plan to visit William’s office again. Maybe she’d come up with something later.

“Buffy?” She looked up, startled to find Xander standing in front of her. He grinned good-naturedly. “You gonna put down your books and order, or are you carrying around state secrets now?”

Buffy let out a laugh and loosened her hold on her books, setting them on the counter as Willow shook her head in exasperation beside her. “Sorry, I was somewhere else.”

“Must have been a mighty nice place,” Xander replied cheerfully. “The usual?”

“Yes, please,” Buffy replied, trying not to blush too obviously. “And it was.”

Willow snorted. “Let me guess, does this place involve a lecture hall and a certain teacher?”

Xander looked up from making their malts, his face scrunched up in confusion. “Wait, your happy place includes school?” He shook his head. “You girls are a mystery to me.”

Willow laughed as Xander finished their drinks and set them on the counter, sticking two straws in each one. “Speaking of, any luck with your mystery girl?”

It was Xander’s turn to sigh. “She’s so pretty. She’d never want to go steady with a dope like me.” He stared out the window glumly at the drive-in next door. Buffy followed his gaze, seeing a pretty brunette carhop whizzing around effortlessly on her roller skates as she delivered a tray of food to a group of boys in a car that looked just like Riley’s, except for the color. The girl hooked the tray on the outside of the car door and said something that had all the boys laughing as she skated away again, her scandalously short blue uniform skirt flying behind her.

“What’s her name?” Buffy asked curiously, pulling her glass closer and taking a sip of chocolate malt. It was extra chocolately, just the way she liked it. Xander had teased her once that nothing short of a natural disaster could compete for her attention when she had a chocolate malt in front of her.

Xander propped his chin on his hand, leaning against the counter and staring longingly out the window. “I bet it’s something beautiful,” he said, sighing. “Like Peggy Sue or Sherry.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “What am I going to do with you two?”

Xander straightened up and grinned at Buffy. “Hey, speaking of going steady, how come you and Riley didn’t say hi when you were here the other night?” He gestured out the window at the drive-in.

Buffy frowned at Xander. “What other night? We haven’t been to the drive-in for a while.”

“But…” Xander looked confused. “Huh, I guess I got him mixed up with someone else.”

Buffy smiled reassuringly. “Lots of people have Bel Airs now.”

Xander reached up and adjusted his paper hat, his smile faltering for a moment. “Sure, it’s easy to get confused.”

“Speaking of Riley,” Buffy said, glancing at Willow, who cast her eyes to the ceiling. Xander propped his elbows on the counter again and Buffy leaned in a little. “He’s going to ask me to marry him!”

Xander’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, though he didn’t look as pleased as Buffy had hoped. “Yeah?”

He glanced at Willow and Buffy slumped back on her stool, feeling her lower lip sneaking out. “Not you, too,” she said.

Willow glanced at Xander before reaching out to pat Buffy’s arm. “We just want you to be sure, Buffy, that’s all. What if you waited until after graduation?”

Buffy frowned. “I’m sure we won’t have the ceremony until next summer.”

Willow furrowed her brow. “No, I meant your graduation, Buffy.”

Buffy waved a hand impatiently. “I told you already, I won’t have time.”

“But,” Willow chewed on her lower lip for moment like she did when she was thinking hard. “Um, don’t you think Professor Pratt might have some interesting classes next year?”

Buffy sat up a little straighter on her stool. The professor had asked if she’d consider declaring English as her major, which meant she’d have to take a lot more English classes. With oodles of books and poems and maybe even plays that William would have to read aloud in that low, rough voice that turned her insides to mush. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said breathlessly.

“Who’s Professor Pratt?” Xander asked in confusion.

“New professor,” Willow said smugly, sipping her vanilla malt. “He’s pretty cool.”

“Maybe I could talk to Riley about it,” Buffy said thoughtfully. Two more years of watching William teach, listening to his lectures, visiting him after hours…it sounded like heaven.

***

“Thanks for coming with.” Willow shot Buffy a smile as they walked back to campus. The soda shop had gotten steadily busier and Xander hadn’t been able to chat for long. Buffy and Willow had finished their malts and waved goodbye as they left. “You can keep them from tossing me in the hoosegow for my overdue books.”

That caught Buffy’s attention. “Since when do you keep books long enough for them to be overdue?” she asked in amusement.

Willow, uncharacteristically, blushed. Buffy stopped in her tracks, her mouth dropping open. “Willow! Who have you been keeping from me?”

“Um…” Willow said, trailing off. “No one?”

Buffy laughed and nudged her friend with her elbow as they walked across the tree-lined quad toward the brick building that housed the library. “Does he spend a lot of time here?” Buffy teased. “Reading very serious books?”

Willow gave Buffy an exasperated look, but the tiny smile playing on her lips confirmed Buffy’s suspicions. She gasped. “Oh my goodness, I can’t believe you haven’t told me about him! And to think I thought we were best friends.” She stuck her lip out comically and pretended to pout as Willow laughed and linked her arm with Buffy’s.

“We are best friends,” Willow said. “I just…it’s new, that’s all.”

“Tell me everything. Is he handsome? Do we have any classes with him? Upper or lowerclassman?” Buffy bounced excitedly on her toes. Ever since Willow’s high school beau, Oz, had left to attend music school somewhere across the country, Willow hadn’t seemed interested in anyone. Buffy and Riley had introduced her to numerous friends but nothing had ever come of it.

“Well…” Willow paused. “Yes to the good-looking.” Her blush deepened. “No to the shared classes, and a junior.”

Buffy sighed happily. “That’s wonderful.” She squeezed Willow’s arm a little tighter. “I knew you’d find someone eventually,” she said, pulling open the door of the library.

The blonde girl behind the Returns desk didn’t look familiar, even though Willow greeted her by name.

“This is my best friend, Buffy,” Willow said. Her face was still a little pink, though Buffy supposed that was from all the walking they’d just done. “Buffy, this is Tara.”

Buffy held out her hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said, smiling.

“You, too,” Tara said shyly, peeking at Buffy from under the fall of her hair. It was curled back away from her face but somehow Willow’s friend still managed to hide behind it. She shook Buffy’s hand briefly before dropping it again.

Buffy smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging way. “Willow’s really sorry about her books being late. Don’t be too mad at her. I don’t think she’s ever had overdue books in her life. Usually she’s the one who has to remind me.” Buffy laughed a little ruefully and Tara ducked her head, her face now pinker than Willow’s.

“Um, it’s fine,” Tara said softly, her eyes on Willow. “I’m sure we can fix you right up.”

Willow slid her books toward Tara and leaned against the counter just as someone else caught Buffy’s eye. She turned in surprise, spotting a familiar figure in a letterman’s jacket across the large room. “Is that Riley?”

Willow straightened up abruptly and turned, looking surprised. “In the library?”

Buffy sent her friend an affectionate glare. “He takes classes, too.”

Willow snorted. “Not that you’d notice.” Tara made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a giggle.

“Hey,” Buffy furrowed her brow. “Who’s that with him?” Riley had shifted enough for Buffy to see that he was talking to a girl with long, dark hair in a red-and-white skirt cut high enough to expose her knees. She was leaning back against a bookcase, her hands clasped behind her and her chest thrust out provocatively.

“I don’t know,” Willow said cautiously. “Buffy-”

Buffy was already making her way across the room, her eyes on her boyfriend and the cheerleader who apparently didn’t know he was practically engaged. “Riley,” Buffy exclaimed with false cheer, latching onto her boyfriend’s arm. She smiled with narrowed eyes at the girl, who looked annoyed by Buffy’s interruption.

“Buffy!” Riley sounded surprised. “I didn’t think you had classes this afternoon.”

“I don’t,” Buffy looked up at him, her smile softening. “Willow’s getting some books for class and I thought I’d say hello.” She turned to the girl. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

The girl smiled insincerely. “Sam.”

“I’m Buffy, Riley’s girlfriend,” she chirped.

“Um, yeah. Didn’t expect you, babe.” He sounded a little nervous, though Buffy imagined that was probably because he hadn’t known how to deflect this other girl without seeming rude. He was always being too nice to people.

Buffy gazed up at Riley. “Isn’t this a nice surprise though?”

Riley leaned down and gave her a quick peck. “Of course,” he replied.

Sam’s nose wrinkled slightly, but otherwise she maintained her polite smile. “Great.” She looked up at Riley. “So, we’ll talk about the project some more later?”

“Sure,” Riley said as Willow caught up with them all. “Thanks, Sam. See you later.”

“You know where to find me.” Sam flashed him a smile and turned on her heel, heading for the library doors.

Riley sighed and draped his arm across Buffy’s shoulders. “So, babe, how was your day?”

“Fine. What project?” Buffy asked curiously. Riley usually took classes with minimal amounts of homework so that he could concentrate on football.

Riley scowled. “That wet rag of a new professor gave us extra assignments today. Sam’s, uh, helping me with it.”

“Professor Pratt gave you a group project?” Willow frowned. “Huh, he just assigned us some papers.”

“Yeah, it’s just swell,” Riley said dismissively. “In the meantime, we’re three games from making the playoffs and his class is taking up valuable practice time.”

Buffy bit her lip. She didn’t usually disagree with her boyfriend, but she couldn’t help but feel sorry for William. “Maybe you could talk to him about it?” Buffy suggested.

Riley looked at her, bewildered. “What good would that do? Besides, Sam already—we already explained, but he wouldn’t budge.”

The thought of Sam sitting in William’s office on his uncomfortable chair in her short cheerleader skirt and her perky ponytail made Buffy’s pulse skyrocket. Her hands tightened around Riley’s arm as she imagined Sam boldly flirting with poor William. Surely a man as intelligent as the professor wouldn’t like fast women. Would he? What if he did? Buffy took a deep, shaky breath and realized Riley was still speaking.

“…alright, babe?”

“What?” Buffy said distractedly.

Riley smiled indulgently and patted her hands. “I was just saying I’ve gotta go. See you at the game tonight?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.” Buffy managed a smile as Riley extracted himself from her grip and headed for the front doors.

He turned just before he reached the exit. “You still look like a picture, babe,” he called loudly. Buffy blushed and smiled even as several people shushed him. She couldn’t do anything about William liking fast women, but at least her boyfriend had good taste. He was going to love the dress she’d found to celebrate their winning streak.

“Well, he’s got some nerve,” Willow said, sounding furious.

Buffy turned to her friend in confusion. “Who?”

Willow’s eyebrow’s shot up to her hairline. “Uh, Riley?” She gestured toward the front doors he’d just exited though. “A project,” she scoffed.

“I’m sure he’ll get it done.” Buffy smiled reassuringly. “Some people just aren’t as into school as you are, Willow.”

Willow’s mouth opened like she wanted to say more, but she closed it again before peering intently at Buffy. “Um, yeah,” she said eventually. “Ready to go?”

Buffy looked around the library curiously as they walked past Tara’s desk and waved goodbye. “Is he not here?”

“Who?” Willow asked, perplexed.

“Your new guy, Willow, remember? I wanted to see him.”

Willow’s face flushed again. “Um, no, no guy here.” She shifted the books in her arms, which seemed to have multiplied. “I should probably take these home. Want to meet up later?”

“We can walk from my place,” Buffy told her friend as they headed out into the afternoon sunshine. “I’m sure Riley will drive us home after the game.”

Willow looked troubled for some reason. “Sounds great,” she replied, but her tone didn’t match her words.

Buffy patted her friend’s arm before they parted ways. “We’ll both have fun tonight, I promise.”


	6. Devil or Angel

“Buffy, Willow’s here!” Joyce called up the stairs.

“Come on up!” Buffy called back, rummaging through her top dresser drawer. She knew there was a white hair ribbon in there somewhere, but it was proving elusive. She glanced up at the mirror and bit her lip, smiling a little. She’d better button her cardigan before she went downstairs and her mother saw how scandalously low the neckline of her new dress dipped.

“Hey,” Willow said, popping her head into Buffy’s bedroom. “Almost ready?”

“Almost,” Buffy promised, pulling out another pale pink ribbon that was close but no cigar. “I can’t find my white ribbon.”

“Just wear a red one,” Willow replied, flopping down on the bed behind Buffy and opening a book.

“Willow!” Buffy turned around, shocked. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

Willow looked up and lifted her eyebrows at Buffy’s outfit. “Uh, well I certainly don’t own anything like that.” She glanced down at her denim pedal pushers and white-button up top. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“You don’t have anything red on,” Buffy said in exasperation. She headed to her closet and started rummaging. “Besides, you’ll need a sweater for later.” She pulled a red cardigan out triumphantly and handed it to her friend, who sighed heavily.

“Do we have to stay for the whole thing?”

“Of course,” Buffy said absently. She fingered the red ribbon she’d worn earlier. It was the right shade, so she supposed it would do. She tied it around her ponytail and did a quick twirl. “How do I look?”

“But the games take forever,” Willow groaned. “And you look really nice. I can’t believe your mom let you buy that.”

“Well,” Buffy hedged. “Actually, Daddy ordered it for me special, so she hasn’t really seen it.”

“You’d better button up before she does,” Willow advised, grinning. “Look at you, Buffy, going modern.”

Buffy blushed and smoothed down the skirt of her new dress: red with white polka-dots. The top was an off the shoulder, crisscrossed design and it really was more daring than almost anything else in her wardrobe. She’d begged Hank for it for a solid month before he’d caved. It was perfect for the game, and for the celebration after.

Buffy slipped on her white tennis shoes and laced them up; glancing once more in the mirror to make sure her blusher wasn’t obvious. She snagged a red knit scarf off the end of her bed and wrapped it once around her neck. She’d made it herself last year when Joyce had been attempting to teach her how to knit. Between that and the cardigan she should be plenty warm. Buffy buttoned up her sweater and shooed Willow off her bed and out the door.

“Are you sure I have to wear this?” Willow asked skeptically, shrugging into the borrowed cardigan as they left Buffy’s house and headed up the sidewalk toward Sunny U. Buffy glanced back to make sure her house was out of sight before unbuttoning her own sweater. The scarf at least kept her from looking too indecent.

“You don’t want to be the only one there not wearing red, do you?” Buffy asked fondly. “They’ll think you’re rooting for the other team.”

Willow made a face. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“I can’t believe you’ve managed to avoid so many games,” Buffy replied cheerfully.

“Football’s just a tool of the patriarchy, you know,” Willow grumbled. “A deification of the masculine ideal that we’re all supposed to worship.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “And it’s also fun,” she encouraged as they crossed the street and joined a steady stream of people heading for the stadium. They could hear the marching band tuning their instruments and Buffy took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of hotdogs and popcorn and freshly-cut grass. “Are you hungry?”

Willow had her book tucked firmly under her arm and Buffy noticed for the first time that the dustjacket was just plain paper. “I guess I could go for a pop,” Willow said doubtfully.

“Perfect.” Buffy started dragging her friend towards the food stands. “We’ll get something to eat at halftime.” 

A group of cheerleaders was warming up in front of the stands, and Buffy noticed that the girl Riley had been talking to in the library, Sam, was leading the squad through their stretching. Her stomach did a funny flip. That used to be her. The last year of high school, Buffy had been voted cheer captain and it’d been more fun than she’d expected. She’d even choreographed a couple of new cheers that the girls back at Sunnydale High still used. She missed it sometimes, but it wasn’t as though she cheered any less now that she sat in the stands. Plus, Riley hadn’t really liked her drawing so much attention to herself. Buffy sighed as she and Willow got in the concession stand line.

“There are a lot of people here,” Willow said, looking around critically. “I think the patriarchy is winning.” Buffy laughed as they reached the counter and she ordered their sodas.

A minute later they were gazing up at the stands. “How about there?” Willow asked, pointing towards a mostly empty section.

Buffy shook her head, searching distractedly for the best seats still available. “We can’t sit there, that’s for the rival team.”

“Are you sure?” Willow asked.

“Of course I’m sure.” Buffy scanned the stands again. It looked like maybe they’d have to go all the way to the top, which some people tended to avoid but did have a pretty good view if the first few rows were taken, like they were now.

“Um, maybe someone should tell Professor Pratt.”

“What?” Buffy’s head whipped around and sure enough, there he was. The professor was leaning back on one elbow and enjoying a cigarette, his gray fedora pitched forward on his head to shade his eyes from the setting sun—on the bottom row of the rival team’s section. William was still in his navy blue suit, though he’d removed his tie, and he wasn’t displaying a stitch of red. Buffy put a hand over her mouth. “Oh no.” She grabbed Willow’s elbow and dragged her friend in his direction.

“Slow down, Buffy,” Willow sounded amused. “Does it really matter?”

Buffy looked at her friend like she’d grown a second head. “Of course it matters! One of our professors can’t look like he’s supporting the other team! Professor Pratt!” Buffy called as they hurried towards him.

He looked up, caught sight of her and Willow, and promptly had a coughing fit. They came to a halt in front of him and Buffy shifted nervously, wondering if she should do something besides try and catch her own breath. He recovered before she could make up her mind, blowing out a stream of smoke and dropping his lit cigarette to the ground, grinding it out under his foot as he stood. “Uh, ladies,” he said, tipping his hat back. His voice was hoarse. Buffy almost let that distract her, her knees wobbling slightly, but first she had to rescue him. It was nice, actually, to see he might not know absolutely everything.

“There you are!” Buffy said in a loud, cheerful voice. “Come on, I found us some seats.”

“What?” the professor asked, looking entirely confused.

“Don’t ask,” Willow advised. “Apparently there are a lot of rules to this whole football-watching thing.”

“Uh, okay, but…” he trailed off, his eyes slowly making a trek from Buffy’s head to her toes.

“You need some red, too,” Buffy informed him. “I can’t believe no one told you.” She sighed and unwound her scarf from around her neck as the professor watched with wide eyes. She might get a chill later, but it was for a good cause. William was staring at her like she was speaking a foreign language, his mouth hanging slightly open. “Don’t worry, you can borrow some of mine.” She held out her scarf with a smile.

“What?” he repeated. He wasn’t looking at her scarf, but at the daring neckline of her new dress. Buffy felt her face flush, and she thought about buttoning her cardigan again, but she was a…what had Willow called her? A modern woman, that was it. 

“Hey, Professor?” Willow said. “Can I ask you some more questions about our assignment? I think I found the perfect book, but I wanted to make sure it was, you know, okay.” She glanced around nervously and held her book tighter.

The professor seemed to remember himself as he looked at Willow, clearing his throat and waving away Buffy’s scarf. He grabbed a long black coat from the bench where he’d been sitting, draping it over his arm and glancing around. “Ah, wrong side, I take it?”

Buffy grinned at him, relieved that he seemed to have gotten over the shock of her dress. She wanted him to think well of her, especially if she was going to take all of his classes. “Yep.” She shook her scarf. “It won’t bite, and you don’t want to be the only one not in red, trust me.”

“Of course not.” He carefully took it from her and draped it around his neck, the loose ends dangling halfway down his chest.

“Sorry it’s not very long,” Buffy said, blushing slightly. “I kind of got impatient.”

“You made this?” He made it sound like she’d built the pyramids with her bare hands. He stroked one end of the scarf, with its uneven pattern and gaps where she’d dropped a few stitches. “It’s lovely.” Buffy blushed harder, her skin tingling like his fingers were caressing her directly.

“Um, should we find some seats?” She turned around before he noticed she was as red as her dress, hearing Willow start to chatter about their class again as Buffy led them over to the correct section of the stands and up to the very top, finding them some seats near one end. She could feel her hips swaying with a bit more emphasis than usual, but that was probably just because her new dress was so swingy and fun.

“No, that’s fine, sounds very interesting,” the professor was saying to Willow as Buffy paused to wait for them to catch up. He was watching her, a tiny smile playing on his face. Her poor scarf looked so out of place against his nice clothes. She almost wanted to take it back, but she kind of hoped it’d end up smelling like him and that would probably take longer than two minutes. Her gaze caught on the hollow of his throat, exposed by his open shirt collar. Her knees felt weak again.

“Is here okay?” Buffy asked, a little lightheaded. Maybe her girdle was too tight. She took a deep breath and William’s eyes immediately dropped to her breasts before darting away, his cheeks tinted pink. Buffy felt a tingle start in her lower belly and her face was warm. She took a sip of her soda, trying to cool down.

“Sure,” Willow said, shrugging and following Buffy down the row, sitting down when they ran out of bench. Buffy hooked her arm over the rail and peered down, but the team hadn’t emerged from their locker room yet. “Anyways,” Willow said beside her as the professor took his seat. “I heard some people might think it was, you know-”

“Here they come!” Buffy exclaimed, jumping to her feet at the crowd roared and joined her in greeting the players with cheers and whistles. Buffy turned to see Willow looking annoyed, her arms crossed over her chest, but William had also gotten to his feet and was clapping along. He caught her looking and smiled in a way that made her heart skip a beat. It was just a slight twist of his lips, one side quirking up higher than the other, as though it was a secret smile meant only for her. She smiled back, a little giddy, and almost wished she could tell him some of her secrets. Thank goodness he was on the other side of Willow so she couldn’t embarrass herself.

The sun started to dip below the horizon as the whistles blew, indicated the game was about to start. Buffy found her seat again and absently picked up her soda, taking a long sip. Willow already had her book open in her lap. Buffy grinned around the straw in her mouth and her gaze lifted to William. He was looking right at her, an unlit cigarette tucked between his lips. Buffy chewed on the end of her straw nervously. She hoped he didn’t think liking football was silly. She watched the cigarette bob as he swallowed before turning his head and lighting it. She followed his example and faced forward again, settling in to cheer on their team.

***

“Oh no!” Buffy groaned and collapsed dramatically against Willow’s shoulder. “Not another field goal!” Willow made a sympathetic noise and patted Buffy’s knee, not lifting her eyes from her book. A piercing whistle cut through the air and Buffy made a face before sitting up straight again. “Well, I’m going to get something to eat before the second half. Willow?”

“Hm?” Willow replied distractedly. Buffy grinned at the professor over her friend’s head. He was following the game with more interest than she’d thought he would, though she suspected he wasn’t quite clear on the rules. He seemed to take his cues from her, watching her closely anytime she jumped up to cheer and following her lead a moment later. Maybe she should have sat next to him after all, so she could teach him something for a change. William smiled back at her. The crowd noise settled down as people started trickling out of the stands in search of refreshments. She almost didn’t want this night to end.

“Food, Willow.” Buffy tore her gaze from the professor and poked her friend. “Do you want some?”

“No, thanks,” Willow said absently. She turned a page.

Buffy shook her head fondly. “I’ll bring you another soda.” She stood up and William immediately got to his feet as well. His long jacket was draped over his arm and he had a cigarette in the other hand.  “Are you leaving?” Buffy said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

“No?” he replied, after a small pause.

“I’ll be right back,” Buffy promised, sliding past Willow. The professor stepped into the aisle to let her pass, and Buffy scolded herself for wishing he’d made her squeeze past just so she had an excuse to touch him.

The trip down the stairs was long, and by the time she reached the bottom the lines for food were even longer. Everyone was still in high spirits, despite their team only being ahead by three points. That wasn’t Riley’s fault though, Buffy thought loyally. He was playing wonderfully even though no one had scored an actual touchdown yet. It just made the game more exciting.

A flash of familiar blonde caught her eye. “Tara!” Buffy called as Willow’s friend walked by. Tara looked at her in surprise.

“Um, hello?” she said timidly.

“Buffy,” Buffy smiled at her. “Willow’s friend? Willow’s here actually. Do you want to come sit with us?”

“I remember,” Tara said, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I guess I could.”

Buffy grinned at her as she stepped to the counter and ordered. “Perfect, I needed another set of hands to get this all back up there anyways.”

Tara laughed softly but it turned out Buffy really would’ve had trouble carrying everything. She’d ended up ordering three sodas—the extra was for Tara—some popcorn, even though Willow had said she wasn’t hungry, and a corndog with extra ketchup for herself. By the time they made it back to the very top of the bleachers the marching band was headed off the field and the teams were once more on the sidelines.

Buffy’s heart sank when she saw Willow sitting alone, highlighted by the stadium lighting. Her friend had scooted over against the railing and was still engrossed in her book. Maybe the professor hadn’t been enjoying the game as much as she’d imagined. Buffy tried to rally her spirits. “Look who I found,” she said to Willow, ushering Tara ahead of her.

Willow looked up and her entire face brightened. “Tara!” she exclaimed happily as the other girl took a seat. “I didn’t think you’d be here!”

“My brother’s on the team,” Tara offered, smiling too. Buffy settled in next to them, happy that at least Willow had someone to talk to about books while Buffy watched what was left of the game. She picked up the red-checked container that held her corndog as the teams took to the field again.

Buffy cheered along with the crowd as a rival player was quickly tackled, but she just couldn’t seem to find the enthusiasm she’d had during the first half. A gray hat caught her eye and her heart leapt. She sat up straighter as William came into view, her scarf still draped over his shoulders. A smile broke out across her face and she scooted closer to Tara and Willow to make room for him. The other girls were already immersed in a world of their own, sharing Willow’s book and the bag of popcorn.

“I thought you’d left,” Buffy said as William took a seat next to her.

“Told you I wouldn’t,” the professor replied with a hesitant smile. He held up the unopened pack of cigarettes that explained his absence. He was close enough now that she didn’t have to try and remember how he smelled anymore, because his unique scent was tickling her nose and making her entire body tingle.

“Oh,” Buffy said, blushing. She looked at her lap and remembered her food. Well, at least she had something to keep her from putting her foot in her mouth too quickly.

The professor tapped an unlit cigarette on his knee, his pantleg brushing against Buffy’s skirt. She stared at his knee, trying to remember that it wouldn’t be proper for her to lean her head against his shoulder even if it was at the perfect height. His nimble fingers flipped the cigarette over in his hand and Buffy absently lifted her corndog to her lips, opening her mouth to take a bite and catching some of the excess ketchup with her tongue as she did so.

The professor made a strangled noise beside her and she looked out at the field as she chewed, worried something had happened, but the team was just in a huddle. The smell of a freshly lit cigarette floated through the air. Buffy turned to see William watching her, a cigarette dangling from his lips and his eyes locked on her mouth.

“Is everything okay?” Buffy asked.

“Yes?” He sounded as though he wasn’t sure, and his voice had dropped to that husky timbre that sent a thrill up her spine. It was hard to think of him as her professor when he looked at her like that, like he was seeing her as a woman and not just a silly girl whose daydreams would probably make him laugh. The crowd around them was loud, and the stands were awash with shifting shadows as people moved. This was nothing like seeing him in class. Everything she felt was magnified by the sheer nearness of him; she could reach out and touch him if she wanted to.

Her attention otherwise occupied, Buffy noticed too late the stray bit of ketchup succumbing to gravity. It landed on the bare skin of her upper chest, which at least spared her dress, but not her utter humiliation. Buffy’s face felt like it had caught fire as she hurriedly set the corndog back in the container and began to search for a napkin. Her every movement made the red sauce slide further down her cleavage and she was almost certain she was about to die of embarrassment.

“Here,” William said, his voice so close that Buffy wanted to cry. Of course he wouldn’t think she was anything but a silly girl, not when she couldn’t even get through a meal without making a ridiculous mess of herself. She felt tears welling in her eyes. “Buffy,” she heard him say softly.

She turned to see him holding out a crumpled handkerchief, his face just inches from hers. She sniffed and tried to remember her manners. “Thank you,” she managed, accepting the white cloth and tucking her chin down so she could see how bad the mess was. There was a smear of ketchup along the top of one of her breasts, trailing along the inner curve down towards the lowest point of her neckline.

“It’s a little worse for wear, but it’s fresh,” William murmured quietly, like he didn’t want to draw attention to her blunder. She felt like such a dunce. A tear slipped from her eye. “Don’t cry,” he said, his tone worried. “That’s the only handkerchief I’ve got.”

Buffy let out a tiny, startled laugh and wiped up the ketchup she could see, swiping at her chest and lifting her chin, fighting back her tears and trying to smile. “I’m sorry,” she said. The crowd around them was starting to get steadily rowdier.

“For what?” William asked. He was still so close. His eyes were following every movement of the handkerchief as Buffy wiped up the ketchup from between her breasts, her hand shaking.

“That was stupid of me, I shouldn’t have…” Buffy sniffed again miserably.

“Nonsense,” he said, frowning at her chest. “There’s just a bit…” William leaned closer as the crowd got louder.

“Where?” Buffy looked down too.

“Just-” She heard him clear his throat. “May I?”

Buffy lifted her head, her eyes wide. “I…yes?”

She handed him back his handkerchief and willed herself not to tremble as he hesitantly touched a spot just below her collarbone, dragging the cloth down. The ketchup would leave a stain on the white fabric and he probably even didn’t know how to get it out, Buffy thought dazedly. She could feel his fingertips barely brushing against the top of her breast and she inhaled, feeling a stirring between her legs that made it hard to keep still.

The crowd roared and everyone around them started to stand, blocking some of the stadium lights. Buffy stared at the brim of William’s hat as he bent to his task, his breath washing across her skin and making her heart thump so loud she was sure he could hear it. She leaned towards him, lifting her chin and bracing her hand to keep from tumbling into his lap. One of his fingers slid down the valley of her breasts and her breath hitched. She couldn’t hold back a tiny gasp and he lifted his head, his expression guilty. His face was so close to hers. The stands were trembling from the force of the crowd’s roar, or maybe that was just her, shaking from the effort of not closing the distance between them to see if his lips were as soft as they looked.

“Buffy,” he said again, though she couldn’t hear it, only see his mouth form the shape of her name. His fingers gently skimmed along the line of her jaw and Buffy couldn’t seem to get enough air to fill her lungs. Dimly, she realized she was clutching his knee with one hand, her fingers wrapped around the inside of his leg. He put his hand over hers and she swayed towards him.

Light fell on his face as the crowd settled down and Buffy’s eyes suddenly widened. William looked pained, his brows drawn together and the corners of his mouth turned down. Buffy pulled back, panicked, and he dropped his hand away from her face. “I didn’t…I shouldn’t have…” Buffy said breathlessly, trying to get her clumsy tongue to work.

“Wait,” William said, his voice hoarse. His fingers tightened over her hand, still clutching his knee. “That was my fault, please. I’m sorry, Buffy.” His voice shook as he released her hand and Buffy stared at him, uncomprehending. The noise of the crowd reminded her of where they were and she drew in a steadying breath, sitting up and reluctantly moving her fingers away from his knee. She didn’t understand why he was apologizing. “I…” William rubbed a hand over his face and fumbled with his pack of cigarettes. “I should go.”

“Go?” Buffy asked worriedly. “But…the game?”

He glanced at her, his hand straying up to the scarf draped around his neck. “Right, game.” He blew out a breath and glanced at the field, then her again, his lips twitching in what she thought might be an attempt at a smile. He shook a cigarette out of his pack and tucked it behind his ear, like Buffy had seen some of the greasers do. “Just…going to go get a drink then.”

“But, you’re not leaving?” Buffy clarified hesitantly.

William looked at her, his eyes steady on hers. “No,” he said softly. “I won’t leave.”

Buffy gave him a tiny smile as he stood and made his way back down out of the bleachers, heading for the concession stands.

“Uh, Buffy?”

Buffy’s head whipped around. She’d forgotten Willow and Tara were there, too.

Tara and Willow were both looking at her in concern. “Did you see it?”

“See what?”  

Willow’s eyebrows shot to her hairline, but Tara was the one who answered. “They got a touchdown. Riley ran it in.”

Buffy drew in a startled breath, feeling shame creep in. Her boyfriend had just made what was probably the play of the game while she had been thinking of kissing another man. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “Of course I saw,” she lied, feeling terrible. “I just…was explaining it to Wi—Professor Pratt.” Buffy closed her eyes briefly and wondered where lying to your best friend was on the sin spectrum. 

Buffy faced the field with renewed determination not to miss another moment as the crowd started once more to roar.


	7. Dreamin'

It was halfway through the fourth quarter before Buffy spotted William’s gray hat bobbing up the stairs. She felt the tightness in her chest loosen just a bit. She didn’t want him to think badly of her, even though he seemed to believe that whatever had happened was his fault. Except that nothing had happened, other than Buffy making a fool of herself.

Willow and Tara had tried to keep her company, but they sometimes slipped into what sounded like a secret code to Buffy, whispering about books in hushed tones with their heads close together.

The professor glanced up for a moment as he climbed, and Buffy could swear he looked almost as relieved as she felt when their eyes met. He took a drag of his lit cigarette and finally made it to the top, sitting down beside her again. “Alright?” he asked softly, his eyes briefly meeting hers. They were dark under the shadow of his hat.

“Never better,” Buffy smiled at him timidly. “Did you hear Riley made a touchdown?”

The professor looked confused by this statement. “Riley Finn? You know him?”

Willow chose that moment to lean forward and join the conversation. “Professor!” She gestured at Tara. “This is my friend I told you about. Tara Maclay, this is Professor Pratt. You should so take one of his classes next semester.”

William looked both pleased and embarrassed as he shook Tara’s hand. “Nice to meet you. You must be Miss Rosenburg’s book connection.”

Tara blushed. “Um, I just work in the library.”

“Have to keep that in mind.” William smiled at her and Buffy had a sudden urge to put her hand on his knee again, even though she really shouldn’t have the first time.

“I think I’m going to use nature versus nurture,” Willow said, sounding happy. “And football.”

The professor laughed as Buffy furrowed her brow in confusion. “For what?” she asked, feeling left out.

Willow passed her book to Buffy. “For the paper, of course.”

“You’re going to write about football?” Buffy asked, impressed. She opened to the title page and then snapped it shut immediately, her face flaming. “Willow!” She dearly hoped the professor hadn’t been reading over her shoulder. From his chuckle, she knew she hadn’t gotten her wish.

“It just means women,” Willow hissed, trying to keep her voice down. Luckily, everyone was cheering on what was shaping up to be the last drive of the game. “And how they’re always treated as second-class citizens compared to men.”

“Oh,” Buffy said, even more embarrassed. She glanced at William but he was just gazing at her with a small smile that didn’t look teasing at all.

“I’ll give it to you when I’m finished,” Willow promised. “Maybe it’ll help you convince Riley to let you finish school.”

Buffy stared at the book in her hands doubtfully. She really didn’t think she’d be able to get Riley to read a book with that kind of title. She handed _The Second Sex_ back to Willow. “Maybe.”

“What does Finn have to do with you finishing school?” the professor asked Buffy in confusion.

Buffy opened her mouth, but Willow beat her to it. “He’s her boyfriend,” Willow said it in a way that made the word ‘boyfriend’ sound like a prison sentence. “And after they get married Buffy’s going to quit school.”

The smile dropped off the professor’s face and Buffy felt the spark that seemed to light inside her when he was near fade just a little. “What?” he asked, looking at her with what Buffy thought might be disappointment. That spark dimmed a little further. “I thought that cheer...” He looked away from her. “Well, it would be a shame,” he finished, tapping another cigarette out of his pack.

Buffy stared at her knees, not quite sure why her trying to be a good wife for Riley was making so many people unhappy. “It’s fine,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice from trembling. She risked a glance at William, but he was glaring at the field, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. “I bet Willow won’t ever stop giving me books.”

The professor exhaled and glanced at her for a moment. “Good,” he said, his voice taking on an edge she’d never heard before. “Would hate to think of a brain like yours wasted on a lifetime of ironing or whatever rot he’s got planned for you.”

Buffy blinked, a slow smile spreading across her face. “A brain like mine?” she repeated shyly.

William looked at her more fully, his expression softening. “Don’t hide your light under a bushel, Buffy,” he said quietly. 

The spark inside her flared up again.

“See?” Willow sounded triumphant. “I’ve been telling you for years, Buffy, stop pretending you’re nothing but a pretty face.”

“I don’t!” Buffy protested. “I just…there’s a plan,” she said helplessly.

William took another drag of his cigarette and slowly blew the smoke out. “Plans can change,” he said gently. The way he looked at her made her feel like that poem he’d had her read in class: both frightened and exhilarated. She felt like she was being pulled in ten directions at once.

“Exactly, Buffy,” Willow said eagerly. “So here’s what you can do-”

“Willow.” Tara patted the redhead’s knee. “I’m sure Buffy has some plans of her own.”

Buffy inhaled worriedly and wrapped her arms around herself. “Sure,” she said, not sure at all. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched William stub out his cigarette and absently smooth his hand down her homemade scarf. He probably had endless plans. She wondered if he might be persuaded to share an idea or two with her.

The game was over before she’d gathered the courage to ask.

***

“Riley!” Buffy called. She plastered a bright smile on her face as she stood on the sidelines and waited for his teammates to finish patting him on the back. Several of the cheerleaders were also congratulating the players, including Sam, who stopped Riley as he headed in Buffy’s direction and said something that seemed to require her to be much closer to him than was really necessary.

Finally, Riley looked over again and Buffy waved, but the frown that crossed his face wasn’t what she’d expected. She looked down at herself, wondering if she’d ended up with ketchup on her clothes after all, despite the professor’s help, but her dress looked clean as a whistle.

“Hey, babe.” Riley jogged over, his hair damp and his face streaked with dirt like it usually was after a game. His cheeks glowed pinkly and his helmet was in his hand.

“You were great.” Buffy offered her cheek and he carefully kissed it without getting her dirty. She kind of missed the days when she’d been allowed to be a little mussed at the end of a football game as well.

He raised an eyebrow at her dress and whistled. “I hope you kept your sweater buttoned all night, babe, or I’m going to hear about it from the boys.”

“Do you like it?” Buffy asked, her smile more genuine now. She did a little half-twirl, making her skirt fly out a little bit. Sometimes she wished Willow could see this side of Riley, the sweet, possessive side that gave her a glimpse of how he’d be when they were married.

“Even better than a picture.” Riley smiled at her. “Listen, babe, I’m gonna go catch up with the rest of the team.”

“Do you want me to wait here?” Buffy glanced around at the thinning crowd, catching sight of Willow and Tara chatting in front of the stands. The professor was standing not far from them, the cigarette in his hand glowing red in the darkness. She was surprised he hadn’t left yet.

“What? Oh, babe,” Riley sounded dismayed. “Tonight’s going to be rowdy. Two more games and we’re in the playoffs.” His grin was proud. “It’ll probably just be the guys. You understand, don’t you?”

“I…” Buffy felt disappointment flood her. She dropped her gaze and stared at the hem of her new dress. Her perfect dancing dress that wouldn’t see any dancing. They almost always went out after Riley’s games. Sometimes to the soda shop or the drive-in, though lately the weather had been so nice they’d been going to the beach instead. Someone usually had a transistor to play music on, and it was always a good time. “Of course,” she said, resigned.

“You’re a peach.” Riley kissed her other cheek and started walked backwards. “I’ll meet you at the soda shop tomorrow, alright, babe?” He turned and jogged towards the locker room, leaving Buffy standing alone. She pulled the two halves of her cardigan together and told herself she wouldn’t cry, even if it felt like she’d just been jilted. Which was silly, since he was going to propose tomorrow. He deserved a night with his friends.

She took a deep breath and composed herself before turning to find Willow. They could walk home, it wasn’t too late yet. There was hardly anyone left in the stands, though she could hear the rumbling of engines as people left the parking lot, still whopping and hollering about the win. The drive-in would be hopping tonight.

“Hey, Buffy.” Willow looked up, smiling, as Buffy approached her. “Is Riley going to be long?”

Buffy shook her head. “No. I mean, he can’t give us a ride. He’s, um, having a boy’s night.”

Willow’s eyebrows lifted and she glanced over Buffy’s shoulder toward the locker room, looking troubled. “Tara and I might go get a malt. Do you want to come?”

Buffy shook her head and pulled her cardigan a little tighter around herself. She just wanted to go home and get out of this silly dress.

Willow cast a worried glance at Tara. “Uh, we can-”

Someone cleared their throat behind them. Buffy turned to find the professor standing nearby. “Sorry, just need to return the scarf. Thanks for the loan.” He smiled slightly and Buffy felt a little better. At least she’d done something right tonight, even if it was as small as keeping the professor from accidentally supporting the wrong team. He pulled her scarf off his shoulders, tugging one end until it came free, and then carefully folding it twice before holding it out to her. “You ladies heading out to join the celebration?” Buffy shook her head wordlessly as she took her scarf. The professor furrowed his brow.

“Um, we’re just going to walk home,” Willow volunteered.

William’s frown deepened and he looked at Buffy again. She stared at the ground, the knobby scarf clutched tightly in one hand while she held her cardigan closed with the other. “I, uh…” he sounded hesitant. “Would you like a ride? My car’s just over in the faculty lot.” Buffy peeked up at him through her eyelashes. He looked a little worried. “It’s awfully late to be walking.”

“It’s just Sunnydale,” Willow laughed. “Nothing happens here, but sure, we could use a ride, right Buffy?” Buffy shrugged and nodded.

William looked a little happier. “Wonderful. Are we waiting for anyone else?” Buffy shook her head slowly. He pressed his lips together and nodded. “Right, well, shall we?” He gestured in the direction of the main campus and Willow and Tara started walking, their arms linked and their heads close together.

Buffy trailed along behind them, suddenly exhausted. This wasn’t at all how tonight was supposed to go. She was supposed to cheer on her soon-to-be-fiancé as he led his team to victory; then they’d go dancing and he’d tell her she looked pretty before he drove her home and kissed her goodnight. Instead, Buffy had spent most of the night mooning over another man while her best friend read a book that Buffy was almost certain was on that list of communist-friendly literature Riley’s dad had lectured her about last summer. Everything seemed to be topsy-turvy.

“Are you cold?” The professor was walking beside her, casting worried glances in her direction. Buffy blinked at him in confusion, but before she could answer he was shaking out the long coat he’d been carrying around all night and draping it around her shoulders. Buffy paused for a moment, looking at him in surprise before releasing her tight grip on the front of her cardigan and pulling his jacket in a little closer around her. “Bit chillier than last night.” He gave her a tentative smile.

His jacket smelled just like him, and Buffy felt the tightness in her chest loosen a little bit. One corner of her lips lifted as she tried to smile. “Thank you.”

The professor looked pleased. “Anytime.”

They started walking again and Buffy surreptitiously brought the collar of his coat closer to her face, taking a deep breath in. She was starting to feel much better. They walked behind Willow and Tara in companionable silence across the rest of campus, and by the time they came to a halt in front of a vaguely familiar black car, Buffy had decided that the night hadn’t been a loss after all. Hadn’t she gotten to know Willow’s new friend better?

The professor pulled open one of the back doors and Buffy waited as Willow and Tara climbed in, automatically stepping up to slide in behind them, only to find herself face to face with William as he shut the door again.

“Oh.” He sounded a little flustered. “I…would you mind keeping me company up front?”

Buffy’s mouth turned up in the first genuine smile she’d managed since Riley had left her standing alone on the side of the football field. “No,” she said shyly. The night had also allowed her to spend a lot more time with the professor, which had been very nice, even without any champagne.

William opened the door for her, his expression pleased, and Buffy slid into the front seat of his car, looking around. The vinyl was all cream, and the dashboard was a slick-looking shiny black. It wasn’t quite as spacious as Riley’s car, but Buffy liked that it was a little cozier.

The professor opened the driver’s side door and settled in behind the wheel as Buffy leaned back and relaxed. The engine started with a roar and William steered them out onto the road. “Where to?” he asked, rolling down his window. Buffy watched him pluck a cigarette from behind his ear, tapping it on the frame of the car door before sticking it between his lips and holding the car’s cigarette lighter to the end of it until it was glowing red.

“Um, can you drop us off on Main?” Willow’s voice came hesitantly floating up from the depths of the backseat. “Buffy, are you sure you don’t want to get a malt?”

Buffy turned to look over her shoulder at her friend. “Not really,” she said, shooting Willow an apologetic smile. The professor’s jacket had fallen open, since she released her death grip on it, and one glance down at her low neckline reminded her that she’d probably been daring enough for one night.

William blew a stream of smoke out the open window into the dark sky, driving slowly towards the center of town. “Don’t mind making a couple stops,” he said.

Buffy faced forward again, glancing at the professor. “Are you sure? You don’t have to…”

“I’m sure,” he interrupted. 

“Thanks, Professor,” Willow said gratefully.

“Course.”

They all cruised along in silence for a minute until Buffy got up the courage to lean forward and reach for the car radio, watching the professor in case he was as proprietary about his car as Riley was. “Can I..?”

William waved the hand holding his cigarette carelessly. “Best if you do it. Still haven’t tuned anything in around here.”

Buffy smiled a little and fiddled with the dial until she heard one of her favorite songs coming though the static as Willow leaned forward and hooked her arms over the front bench seat. “Turn here,” her friend said, pointing towards the bright lights of downtown. The professor used a cream-colored suicide knob attached to the steering wheel to easily turn down a wide street flanked with green shrubs. “This is good,” Willow said after another minute or so.

The professor pulled over to the curb, looking puzzled. “It’s a couple more blocks, isn’t it?”

Willow laughed. “Yeah, but we just left a football game. Everyone’s going to be cruising down Main Street tonight. You’ll never get through.” Buffy turned to wave as the other girls climbed out of the car and shut the door with a hurried round of thanks and goodbyes.

The engine was loud as William put the car back into gear and pulled onto the street again. There was a long silence in the car as one song ended and another began, the volume on the radio low and quiet. Buffy opened her mouth to give directions but the professor was already turning onto the street they needed. “Do you know where I live?” Buffy asked curiously.

The professor flicked his cigarette butt out the window and shifted slightly in the driver’s seat. “Uh, yeah.” The streetlights lit him up in a steady rhythm, making him look like he was in a film reel. He’d taken off his hat, setting it up on the dashboard, and from this angle she could see that his hair curled slightly behind his ears. Buffy wanted to reach out and touch it to see if it was as soft as it looked. Instead, she twisted her hands into the scarf she was still holding.

“I thought I saw you the other day,” she said thoughtfully.

William glanced at her, a smile playing on his face. “Pretty sure I’d recognize you anywhere.”

Buffy blushed, glad the car was dark enough he probably couldn’t tell. A smile spread across her face. “Yeah?” she asked.

He shook another cigarette out of the pack, tapping it against the doorframe before seeming to decide against it, sticking it behind his ear. “You ever read Ginsburg?”

Buffy turned towards him more fully, confused by the change of subject. She hooked one arm over the seatback and tucked a leg up under her while she thought. The name was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “I don’t think so?” She leaned her cheek against her arm and wished she could ask him to just keep driving so she didn’t have to go home.

William made the turn onto her street and Buffy sighed. Of course she had to go home. “One of my favorites,” the professor said. He pulled the car over to the curb just shy of her house, in the shadow of a big elm in her neighbor’s yard, and shut off the engine. The radio cut off mid-song and he turned to look at her before looking away again, like he was debating something.

Buffy realized she was still wearing his coat. She lifted her head and started to shrug it off her shoulders, leaning forward to pull her arms out of it at the same time that William moved again. His hand grazed her covered breast as he leaned in and she found herself inches from him for the second time that night. “I…” he said, his voice raspy. “Uh, I just…the glovebox.”

Buffy stared at him, one shoulder bare and the other still covered by his jacket. Her heart was tripping along in double time. “Um, I wanted to…your coat,” she said weakly.

The professor’s eyes dropped to her exposed shoulder and Buffy inhaled shakily, watching as his gaze shifted to her breasts. She leaned forward a tiny bit further, letting the coat slip off her other shoulder before sitting up and turning slightly. “Can you…?” she asked breathlessly. It was a simple thing, but she couldn’t remember the last time Riley had helped her with her coat. William’s fingers glided across the tops of her bare shoulders, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he grasped the lapels of his coat and helped ease it the rest of the way down her arms. His fingers skimmed along the sides of her arms the whole way down, making her entire body light up with something she couldn’t name. When the jacket finally slid free, Buffy let out the breath she’d been holding, feeling slightly dizzy.

She turned to face William again, finding him even closer than he’d been before. “Just let me get…” he nearly whispered, like he was as afraid of breaking the spell as she was. One of his arms was lying across the seatback behind her and he leaned forward, reaching past her to open the glove compartment. His arm brushed against her knee and he was so close she was almost tucked up against his side.

He pulled something out of the glove compartment and sat up again, but didn’t move away. She was mesmerized by the line of his jaw, wanting to trace it with her fingers like he’d touched her earlier. Was this what he had felt, this barely restrained urge to let her fingertips explore the contours of his body?

Something caught the edge of her skirt, pushing it up, and she could feel his fingers sliding up her bare leg just above her knee. His hand was resting against her thigh and she felt like she might catch fire from the heat of his touch. He was looking at her in a way that made her wonder if she really could have asked him to just keep driving. His hand slid up a little higher, the rustling of her skirt somehow louder than her pounding heart. She glanced down and noticed he was holding a book, nestled in the folds of her skirt. “Is that him?” she asked, trying to catch her breath.

William started slightly. “Uh, yeah.” He finally lifted his hand, and Buffy’s knee felt a little colder. “Here,” he said quietly.

Buffy accepted the slim paperback volume. It was tattered enough to look like it’d been read multiple times, and the way he handed it to her told her it was something precious to him. She accepted it silently, not sure how to thank him. It was like he was giving her a glimpse of his soul.

“I…” Buffy suddenly remembered her scarf. It wasn’t even remotely the same, but he’d seemed to think it was special. She cast around for a moment, finally finding it tucked up under part of the seatback. “Here.” She pressed the scarf into his hands, feeling his fingertips brush against her own. A shiver ran through her. “You keep it.”

“What?” He sounded surprised.

 Buffy flushed. “I know it’s not much, but…”

“No,” he interrupted, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, Buffy.”

She loved to hear him say her name like that, like he was savoring it. “You’re welcome,” she said shyly, biting her lip before boldly adding: “William.” His smile got even brighter and it made Buffy’s heart soar. “Thank you for the ride.” She glanced out at her house; the front porch light was on. Her mother was expecting her. “And the book.”

“Anytime,” he said, his voice low. Buffy shivered again, though she was far from cold.

“I should go.” She wanted him to ask her to stay, even though that was an impossible wish. His smile dimmed a little and she wondered if maybe it was less impossible than she thought. “I’ll see you in class?”

The smile slipped off his face entirely and he pulled back, abruptly putting space between them. “Yes, in class,” he said, his tone suddenly brusque. Buffy felt like she’d been basking in the sunshine only to have a storm roll in. William pulled the cigarette out from behind his ear and fumbled with the car lighter, turning the key to start the engine again with a muffled roar.

Buffy moved away before she did something she’d regret, like try and kiss him. She found the door handle and swung the heavy door open, scooting across the seat and climbing out. She walked slowly down the sidewalk to her house, his book clutched to her chest. She didn’t hear the engine accelerate until she opened the front door, glancing over her shoulder to watch him drive away.

***

PRESENT DAY

“Well, I can’t do it.” Anya flipped another page in her magazine.

“But,” Giles said, nearly sputtering, “someone who’s neutral in this entire…situation should certainly be the one to keep an eye on them. So as to disrupt things as little as possible.”

Anya looked up, lifting her eyebrows. “You want the former vengeance demon to enter a dream world where men are most likely making fools of themselves?”

There was a long pause. “Perhaps not,” Giles finally said, turning to Willow and Tara, who both shook their heads.

“I don’t think I should go in,” Willow said nervously. “The one time we tried it…” Her face paled and Tara looked slightly ill.

Giles put a hand on his hip and snorted in irritation. “This is intolerable. There must be some way we can be sure the others aren’t interfering with the initial dream.”

“Spike probably would have been in it anyways,” Anya said absently, dog-earing a page.

Giles glared at her even as Willow shifted nervously. “Almost everyone was in the dream Tara and I shared,” she volunteered.

“And,” Tara added cautiously, “Buffy’s seemed, um, pretty happy lately, even with all the stuff she’s dealing with.”

Giles snorted and stomped off to the kitchen, his exit followed shortly by the sound of clinking glass and low muttering before he reappeared with a tumbler half full of amber liquid. “Well, we need to think of something, before this gets entirely out of hand.”


	8. Come Go With Me

Buffy woke with a gasp, her entire body trembling. She pushed her quilt to the floor and lay back, trying to cool off. Her skin was slick with sweat and she closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath and dying to slide her hands down between her legs to recapture the feeling that had woken her. But she was a good girl, Buffy reminded herself—rather unconvincingly—and good girls don’t do that sort of thing. She caught herself cupping her own breast and dropped her hand, fisting it into her sheet instead.

At last, she was able to breathe normally, though her body was still tingling with the after-effects of her dream. She glanced at the book on her bedside table and the tingling intensified. She looked away again, her cheeks heating. Thank goodness her mother had already been in bed when Buffy had let herself into the house last night. She had a feeling that if Joyce ever so much as glanced through _Howl_ , the reaction would be even worse than if Buffy had brought home that book Willow had been reading with ‘sex’ in the title.

Buffy stared at her ceiling, watching the morning sunlight creep across it. She could only half-remember snippets of whatever dream had left her feeling this way. There’d been a hand sliding up her thigh and a husky voice in her ear that made her knees weak. Her fingers reached out to stroke the cover of the book the professor had given her. She’d tried to read it last night but hadn’t made it past the part about…well, it had been a little more vulgar than she’d expected. A lot more, actually. Of course, she supposed she should have expected that from something that had originally belonged to ‘Spike’, according to the inside front cover.

Buffy had snapped the book shut right after the word “whoring” had caught her eye and sat for a long moment in her bed, surrounded by her flowered pink quilt in her modest pajamas and wondered if, somehow, she was the one out of place in the world. Everyone seemed to be so…passionate about something. Willow was fighting the patriarchy, William was sharing his love of literature, and even Riley had football. Buffy, meanwhile, had…what, an overactive imagination and a schoolgirl crush?

She’d blushed then, but now she wondered why William made her feel things that no one else ever had. Shouldn’t she feel this way about her future husband? Why hadn’t Riley ever made her want to be reckless and impulsive? 

Buffy settled her hand over the worn cover of _Howl_ and smoothed out its ragged edges before opening her nightstand drawer and slipping it inside. Maybe she’d read a little more of it later.

“Buffy!” Joyce called from down the hall. “Time to get up, lazybones!”

“Coming!” Buffy called back. She sighed and climbed out of bed, automatically going through her morning routine before dressing in a pair of sky blue pedal-pushers with a matching kerchief tied around her hair to keep it tidy. She could already hear the vacuum going, which meant she was later than usual getting up this morning. Her eyes strayed to her nightstand, and the reason she was a little tardy. She wondered if the professor usually gave his students such provocative gifts, or if she was a special. She dearly hoped it was the second one.

Buffy gave her ponytail a final fluff and headed downstairs to find the duster and help her mother with the household chores. It seemed like her mother was almost more nervous about the dinner with Riley and his parents coming up that night than she was, Buffy thought idly.

***

“A little extra flour, Buffy, not the entire bag,” Joyce said with fond exasperation, rescuing the dough from Buffy’s flour mountain and shaking off the excess.

Buffy made a face. “It was really sticky,” she tried to explain.

Joyce expertly worked the flour into the dough, flattening it into a round as she went. “Why don’t you stir the apples,” Joyce suggested. “I’ll leave you a few things in the fridge to heat up while your father and I are gone next weekend, alright?”

“Thanks, Mom.” Buffy sighed and dutifully went to stir the already-stirred apple mixture they’d put together earlier. She’d spilled a little too much cinnamon in it, but Joyce had assured her they’d balanced it out with other spices. She was never going to get the hang of this whole cooking thing. Maybe she and Riley could live close by after they got married so that Joyce could make sure Buffy didn’t burn down the kitchen. Buffy frowned at the sliced apples and then at her mother as Joyce carefully lined a pie plate with some of the dough. “Mom?”

“It’ll taste delicious, Buffy,” Joyce said automatically.

Buffy smiled a little. “No, um, I was just wondering about something.”

“Oh, what’s that? Hand me the apples?”

Buffy pushed the bowl closer to her mother and propped her hand on her chin. “How did you know you wanted to marry Dad?”

Joyce looked up, startled, but finished shaking the spiced apple slices into the pie plate and picked up the second round of dough she’d flattened to cover to top. She was silent for a moment as she positioned the dough just so, and then passed it to Buffy for crimping. This, at least, was something Buffy wasn’t terrible at. Buffy set to work as her mother finally opened her mouth again, looking thoughtful. “I suppose it was a gradual thing. He’d just started working for my father, you know, and he had such ambition. I almost couldn’t believe it at first when he asked if he could take me to dinner. And then…well, it was just inevitable.” Joyce smiled at her daughter. “Sometimes two people are meant to be.” 

Buffy finished crimping the edge of the pie and her mother made precise slashes across the top of it with a kitchen knife. Buffy frowned at the finished product. She hoped Riley wasn’t expecting this level of perfection from her after they got married. “But…did he make you, you know, feel things?” Buffy looked up at her mom, but Joyce was bustling around, putting away the spices and setting the dishes in the sink to be washed.

Joyce whisked the pie away and tucked it into the fridge for later. “Of course! Your father made me feel safe and cared for, just like he does now.” Buffy wasn’t entirely sure, but her mother’s smile seemed a little more brittle than it had been a moment ago. “Now, don’t you have plans for this afternoon?”

Buffy glanced up at the clock. “Oh, I have to go! Thanks for the help with the pie, Mom.”

“We’ll tell Riley you made it.” Joyce winked at Buffy. “Don’t stay out too late, I need your help with dinner.”

“I won’t!” Buffy hollered as she bounded up the stairs to fix her hair.

***

The sky was almost the same shade of blue as Buffy’s pedal-pushers and the matching ribbon around her ponytail. Almost as blue as William’s eyes, she thought, blushing again as she thought of the book he’d given her, and the way he’d touched her last night in his car. It was almost as though…but that couldn’t be true. What could he possibly see in her? She couldn’t cook, could barely knit, and she hadn’t even heard of most of the books he seemed to like.

Buffy shook her head and tried to focus on more important things. She’d found a black cardigan to tie around her shoulders, even though it was almost too warm for it. At least it matched her saddle shoes, and her mother had been happy to see her being so practical.

Buffy perked up as the soda shop came into view and picked up her pace. Riley’s car hadn’t been parked in front of his house, but maybe he’d had errands to run and was planning on meeting her here.

 She swung through the door, setting off the bell that tinkled cheerfully to announce new arrivals, and spotted a familiar head of red hair. “Willow!”

Willow swiveled on her stool, smiling. “Buffy!”

Xander watched them with a bemused expression. “What’s got the two of you in such a good mood?”

Buffy smiled at him and hopped up on the stool next to Willow’s. “It’s just a nice day,” Buffy said cheerfully. “How is yours?”

Xander’s face fell as he groaned dramatically and Willow laughed. “Don’t get him started,” she advised Buffy. “I’ve told him to just go talk to her, but he’s refusing.”

“The carhop girl again?” Buffy asked in amusement. “Xander…”

“Look at me!” Xander gestured at his malt shop uniform, with the colorful bowtie and the paper hat. “I’m just some nobody, and she could have anyone she wants,” he said glumly.

Buffy frowned. “You’re not nobody. You’re Xander, and you make the best malts in town.” She leaned forward and patted his hand as he smiled weakly at her. “She’d be lucky to have a guy like you, Xander.”

“Yeah,” Willow piped up loyally. “So if she doesn’t like you, well, then, phooey on her.”

Xander sighed, but he looked a little less dejected. “You think so?”

“We know so,” Buffy said, nodding. “Now, about those best malts in town…” She batted her eyelashes for emphasis as Xander chuckled.

“One chocolate malt, coming up.”

Buffy gave a little cheer and turned to survey the room. There were very few other patrons. The shop was in the middle of a lull, or maybe everyone was out enjoying the sunshine. The drive-in next door was hopping, with cars coming and going every few minutes. Buffy spotted the brunette that Xander had his eye on whizzing around on her roller skates and expertly toting trays of food that Buffy was positive she would spill just carrying them around on her own two feet.

“Is Riley coming?” Willow asked, taking a sip of her own chocolate malt. It was almost half gone; she must have arrived a while ago.

Buffy frowned as Xander slid a tall glass in front of her. “I thought he’d be here actually.” She turned to Xander. “Have you seen Riley today?”

Xander darted a glance at the drive-in next door. “Uh, actually,” he started, but whatever he was going to say was lost as he let out a strangled gasp. “Oh no,” he moaned.

“What?” Buffy turned to look, startled, and her eyes landed a shiny black car that was definitely familiar. She smiled so wide it almost hurt.

“Oh no what?” Willow repeated, leaning over Buffy’s shoulder and also peering out the window. “What’s wrong?”

Buffy wondered if the professor could see her from where he’d parked at the drive-in and reached up to make sure the ribbon in her hair was still tied in a perfect bow. Xander’s mystery carhop girl executed a showy spin on her roller skates before leaning in to take William’s order, and Buffy felt her smile falter just a little.

“Look at that car,” Xander said in despair. “Look at that guy! Who is that? Oh man, I don’t stand a chance with her.”

The carhop girl laughed, throwing her head back, and Buffy pushed her malt away, suddenly feeling a little sick. Her hand strayed to the collar of her blouse, primly buttoned up all the way to the top. She snatched her hand away and turned. She was here to meet Riley. The professor’s interest in a carhop girl was no concern of hers. Well, she amended as Xander slumped down to lay his head on the counter, except if it hurt her friend.

Willow reached out and patted Xander on the shoulder. “Calm down, that’s just Professor Pratt, we told you about him.”

Xander lifted his head his brow furrowed. “That’s the new professor?” He looked out the window and Buffy resisted looking out as well. She pulled her malt closer and toyed with the straw. “Aren’t professors supposed to be all old and boring? And old?”

Willow laughed. “I don’t think that’s a requirement.”

“Well, it should be,” Xander sulked. “That’s just not fair. He’s got a cool car and a fancy job and he looks…like that.” He gestured at the window and Buffy had to stop herself from turning on her stool to follow his finger. “I’m doomed. She’ll run away with him and never even give me a second look,” he groaned, laying his head on the counter again.

Willow rolled her eyes at Buffy over Xander’s head. “He spent the whole football game with us yesterday, and we didn’t run away with him, did we Buffy?”

Buffy let out a nervous laugh, remembering her desire to do just that when she was in the professor’s car, and dearly hoped Willow would attribute her pink cheeks to the forbidden blusher. “Um, nope, no running away here.”

Xander lifted his head, frowning thoughtfully. “Hey, speaking of football-” He cut himself off with a gasp. “Oh no, it’s too late.”

This time Buffy couldn’t stop herself from swiveling toward the window while Willow peering over her shoulder again. The carhop girl was perched on the edge of the professor’s car hood while they chatted through his open window, and it certainly didn’t look like she was taking his order. Buffy inhaled sharply as William smiled at the Xander’s crush. Her chest felt too tight, making it hard to breathe. She reached up and undid a couple of buttons on her blouse, trying to get more air. She’d been silly, imagining that he might be interested in her, when it turned out he was interested in all the pretty girls and she’d just been stupid enough to think she was special.

The carhop girl did something to one of her feet and waved at the professor before skating away. “I think she was just fixing her skate,” Willow said doubtfully.

“You think?” Xander sounded hopeful.

Buffy tore her gaze from the window, feeling out of sorts. Was that why William had given her that book? To find out if she was the kind of girl who liked dirty poetry so he could talk her into doing something indecent? Well, she wasn’t falling for that. Buffy straightened her shoulders and undid a third button on her blouse. If she was going to tell him she was onto his plot to seduce naïve girls, she was going to also make sure he never forgot what he could have had. Except that of course she never would have actually…but that wasn’t the point. Buffy got up from her stool.

“Uh, Buffy?” Willow asked. “Are you okay?”

Xander turned to look at her. “Where are you going? You just got here.”

“I’ll be right back,” Buffy said firmly, turning on her heel and marching out the front door.

“Your malt is melting,” Xander called from behind her. Buffy’s feet didn’t falter.

She managed to maintain her righteous anger until she was almost halfway across the drive-in parking lot. William didn’t really look like he was eagerly waiting for the carhop girl to return. Buffy slowed her steps, wondering if maybe she was being a little hasty in her conclusions, and finally stopped one empty car stall away from the professor. He was smoking the last of a cigarette, slumped back in his seat and staring up at the ceiling of his car like he was contemplating something. His arms were bare, and the short-sleeved black button up he was wearing made his pale skin look even paler. His hair was still slicked back away from his face but not as tightly as usual, and she could see it curling slightly at the ends. Buffy felt her heart do a little flip as he looked over at the empty passenger seat of his car and heaved a sigh.

She took another hesitant step forward just as he turned to flick his cigarette out the car window. She saw the moment he caught sight of her. Everything she’d been planning to say flew out of her head the moment he broke out into a wide smile that was nothing like the one he’d given that carhop girl. She had caused that, Buffy thought in wonder. The professor hastily swung open the heavy driver’s door, his eyes never leaving her face. Unfortunately, she then also caused him to nearly take out the poor carhop girl, who was returning with his food.

“Whoops!” The brunette did a tricky spin move that had her instantly changing direction, the tray in her hand lifting out of the way as she managed to both keep her feet and not run into the car door suddenly in her path.

William’s face turned an adorable shade of pink that Buffy was almost certain was an exact match for her favorite sweater as she covered her grin with one hand, biting back her giggle. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…” he tried to apologize to the carhop girl. He cast a glance at Buffy, his expression sheepish, as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

“Are you okay?” Buffy managed to ask the brunette without laughing.

“Totally fine,” the carhop girl replied cheerfully, looked between the two of them. “Want to put an order in?” she asked Buffy, hooking the tray on William’s open car door.

Now Buffy was certain that her face was the same pink shade. “Oh no, I didn’t mean to…um, I was just-” she pointed over toward the soda shop. “Having a malt.” She had a sudden flash of inspiration. “You should come in sometime. I’m really sorry about the, um…”

“Distraction?” the carhop girl finished with a smile.

Buffy blushed harder. “I guess.” She snuck a peek at William, who seemed to finally recover himself.

“Are you hungry?” The professor gestured at his car. “There’s plenty of room.”

Buffy glanced at his passenger seat, remembering how it’d felt to be so close to him last night, the darkness hiding them from sight, his hand on her leg and his voice in her ear. Her knees wobbled a little. Her stomach knots had become butterflies. “I…” She shouldn’t be thinking about getting into his car at all. Her malt was getting all melty.

“I’ll come back,” the carhop girl said, sounding amused. “Just holler for Anya if you need anything.” She skated away without a backward glance and William didn’t even acknowledge that she’d left. Buffy was almost sure she’d overreacted a bit earlier. She tried to think of what to say now that she wasn’t full of indignation.

“I didn’t know you came here,” Buffy finally blurted, pulling her ponytail over one shoulder and twisting a piece of it around her finger nervously. 

“Never had before now,” the professor said, rocking back on his heels. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans, like she’d seen on the greasers, and well-worn black boots. He looked nothing like a professor, Xander had been right. “Was going to see if I could find that beach everyone’s always talking about.”

Buffy’s eyes strayed down to his legs as she pictured him in a pair of swim trunks and felt a little lightheaded. “You were?” she asked breathlessly.

“You wouldn’t…” He hesitated and glanced over at the soda shop. “You have someone waiting on you?”

Buffy paused for a brief second before shaking her head. Willow had Xander to keep her company, and Riley hadn’t even bothered to call and let her know he couldn’t make it.

“I don’t suppose you could show me the way?” 

Buffy bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder, but the sun was reflecting off the glass of the soda shop and she couldn’t see her friend’s faces. It was probably just as well, she wasn’t sure they’d understand in the slightest. She took a breath and made her decision. “Yes.”

Even William looked a little surprised, and, she was happy to see, pleased. “Yeah?” That smile was back, the wide, wondering one that seemed to be just for her.

“I’d love to,” she said, feeling bolder by the minute.

“Great,” William said, turning around and frowning at the tray of untouched food. “Just, give me a minute.” Buffy watched him fish a wallet from his back pocket and pull out a dollar bill to toss on the tray. He turned back to her and gestured at his car. Buffy smiled and started to walk to the passenger side when he surprised her, following her around the car and pulling open her door before she could even reach for the handle. “There you go.” He looked like he couldn’t believe his good fortune. 

Buffy gazed up at him for a moment before climbing in. This wasn’t like a ride home after a football game, or stopping by his office because her sweater had gone missing. This was him wanting to spend time with her, almost exactly like she’d imagined. She felt a little giddy. “Thank you.” His smile made the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, and she could almost picture this exact moment, decades from now: William helping her into the car and looking at her this same way. It took her breath away.

She settled into the passenger seat as he thumped her door closed. He skirted around the front bumper and slid behind the wheel, frowning at the tray still hooked over his car door. “Hang on, let me-”

Anya came flying out of nowhere, the wheels of her skates clattering over the pavement “Heading out?” She picked up the tray and plucked the bill off of it. “I’ll be-”

“Keep the change,” William said.

Buffy saw Anya’s eyes widen and wondered how much of a tip he’d just given the carhop waitress as he closed his door and backed the car out of the drive-in spot, heading for the main street. They passed by the window of the soda shop and Buffy peeked over guiltily, catching the open-mouthed stares of her two closest friends. She was going to get an earful about this later for sure.

She glanced at William out of the corner of her eye as he started humming under his breath. It was one of the songs that had been playing on the radio last night when he’d driven her home.

Her friends could scold her all they wanted, Buffy decided; she was going to make the most of this stolen afternoon.


	9. All I Have To Do Is Dream

They were alone, Buffy thought for the thousandth time since William had driven them out of the parking lot. She was alone with him, and he had invited her to show him where the beach was. It was almost like they were on a date. Except of course they weren’t, because Buffy was going steady with someone else. And he was her professor.

She snuck a peek at William, who had lit another cigarette and was lounging back against the seat. He looked much less like a professor and much more like the kind of man Buffy’s mother would cross the street to avoid. It made her heart pound behind her ribcage. This was a million times more exciting than a little bit of forbidden blusher. 

William blew out a stream of smoke and it curled out the window as Buffy drank in the sight of his pursed lips. She let herself imagine that later he’d be pressing them against her own, like they really were on a date. She felt her stomach butterflies stir.

The professor’s shirt, with its unrelieved black, was so unlike most of the casual clothes she’d seen other men wear, all colorful patterns and designs. She wondered if this was who William had been before he’d come to Sunnydale. She’d never imagined any of her professors as men outside of their teaching roles before. She supposed she thought they went home and sat around in their stiff suits grumbling about terrible students and reading boring books the size of the dictionary.

But not this one. He looked like he might race his car on the edge of town like she’d heard some of the greasers did. A strand of his hair had fallen out of place to curl down his temple. He absently reached up to smooth it back and she let out a little sigh.

Buffy sucked her lower lip into her mouth and chewed on it, thinking again of the book he’d given her. She’d assumed William must have gotten it secondhand from somewhere, because of the name written inside. But now she wondered if it had always been his. He looked much more like a “Spike” when he was dressed like this.

“Buffy?” He was watching her. The car was idling at a stop sign.

She blinked for a moment before remembering she was supposed to be giving directions. “Oh,” she said, flushing. She pointed to the right. “Um, this way, then another right and we’ll be there.”

William smiled at her, using the sweet, crooked smile that made it seem like they shared a secret. Buffy wondered if maybe they did, kind of, if he was Spike. The thought made her butterflies soar.

He reached over and turned the radio on but left it low. It was still tuned to the station she’d found last night. His fingers drummed on the steering wheel in time with the music as he steered them into the parking area by the beach and let out a low whistle. Buffy looked around, surprised. It was almost as crowded as it normally was at the height of summer. The weather really had brought everyone outdoors. She was more disappointed than she expected. The moment they got out of the car they wouldn’t be alone anymore, and he would go back to being her professor instead of a man who’d invited her to go to the beach.

“Is it always like this?” he asked, driving through and searching for a spot among the weeds and packed dirt.

“Not always,” Buffy replied absently, her eyes sliding over all the cars lined up next to each other. There was one of Riley’s best friend’s cars, a red Bel Air, next to a black car of some kind. 

“Seems a little crowded for my taste.” His mouth turned up at one corner. “Don’t even own a pair of trunks.”

Buffy let out a little laugh. “Then why did you want to go to the beach?”

He shrugged. “Seemed the thing to do now that I’m in California.”

“Don’t they have beaches in England?” Buffy asked curiously. “Isn’t it an island?”

William chuckled. “We’ve got ‘em,” he replied. “But they’re nothing like this.” He nodded towards the expanse of sand they could see, stretching down towards the blue ocean. It was calm today, the waves lapping at the shore instead of crashing like they sometimes did. Buffy’d seen pictures of people standing on wooden boards and riding those big waves, but she much preferred this gentler version of the Pacific.

She looked over at the professor, taking in his pale skin. “You’d turn the color of a lobster anyways,” she said, starting to grin.

He snorted. “Not all of us can sport that pretty golden skin you’ve got. I’d be happy to turn as red as you’d like if you wanted to get a bit more sun.” His eyes strayed down the front of her blouse.

Buffy’s grin widened and she glanced back out at the beach, more flattered than embarrassed. “Well…” She paused, then took a deep breath. “I know another place we could go.” She twisted her fingers together in her lap and hoped he didn’t think she was trying to be fast. She just wanted to keep him to herself a little longer, that was all.

“Yeah?” He put the car back into gear and headed out of the parking area. “Another beach?”

“No,” Buffy said a little hesitantly. “It’s kind of a…lookout spot, up on the cliffs.” She shot him a tiny smile. “With some shade.”

This time William’s laugh was louder. He stretched his arm across the top of the bench seat, and she could feel him toying with the ribbon dangling from her ponytail, his fingers catching in the ends of her hair. It sent shivers down her spine and she leaned into his hand, wanting more. His gentle touch was hesitant, like he couldn’t believe she was allowing it, instead of the proprietary tugs she was used to. “Sounds perfect,” he said. “Lead the way.”

Buffy relaxed against the seat and started giving him directions. His fingers never left her hair.

***

“There.” She pointed to a rutted dirt road partially hidden behind an overgrown rhododendron. William put both hands back on the wheel as he carefully steered the car off the main road and crept up the weedy drive.

“Are you sure this is the way?” He sounded doubtful. “Doesn’t look like anyone comes out here.”

Buffy shrugged. “I don’t think anyone does. Willow showed it to me once. There’s an old house but no one’s lived there in forever.” They rounded the corner and the neglected house came into view, its front porch sagging and the roof full of holes. Buffy imagined it had been beautiful, once.

William slowed the car but Buffy pointed out the front windshield. “Over by that big tree.” It was a cypress, twisted by the wind coming off the ocean but still strong, standing like a sentinel along the cliff. The professor drove a bit further before stopping by the tree. They couldn’t quite see the ocean, even when Buffy leaned forward.

“Hang on.” William put his arm across the back of the seat again, but this time he was all business, turning the car around and backing it up until Buffy’s door was next to the tree trunk before throwing it into park and shutting off the engine. Without the noise of the car, Buffy could hear the surf, a distant, rhythmic slosh far down below. William turned to her and gave her his secret-sharing smile. “Now we’ve got a bench, come on.” He climbed out of the car and peeked back in, holding out his hand. “Think I might have gotten a little close on that side.”

Buffy accepted his help out of the car, hoping her palm wasn’t sweaty as his fingers curled around it and she slid across the seat and out the driver’s door. “Thanks,” she said a little breathlessly. He didn’t release her hand.

“Yeah.” He was watching her like she was going to disappear at any moment. Buffy ducked her head under his scrutiny and turned to look out over the cliff, finally seeing the deep blue of the ocean, the sunlight glinting in gold and white off the surface. He led them around to the back of his car, Buffy carefully picking her way through some brambles, and glanced at her before looking away again. “Uh, it’s a bit of a hop.” He gestured at the broad, flat trunk of the car and Buffy finally understood what he’d meant by giving them a bench. She eyed the top of the trunk a little doubtfully.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” She couldn’t imagine Riley letting her sit on his car. He got mad when people leaned on it at the drive-in.

William frowned. “Course,” he said. “Here, can I…” He released her fingers but stepped closer to her, his hands hovering near her hips. Buffy stared up at him with wide eyes. He was watching her carefully, his lips pursed slightly. She inhaled as his fingers skimmed her waist and settled there, his palms on her hipbones. “Give you a hand?” he said. Buffy’s hands had automatically come up to grasp his shoulders, like they were dancing to the sound of the wind and the waves. It wasn’t until he lifted her up that she realized he wasn’t going to kiss her. It made her insides ache with disappointment.

“Oh,” she let out as he helped her settle on the trunk, giving her an even better view over the edge of the cliff. “I…thank you.” She felt a little foolish as she wiggled back to find a comfortable seat, her entire body flushed and heated from the misunderstanding. Her sweater felt like it was choking her. She untied the arms from around her neck and let it fall as William hopped up beside her and they gazed out at the endless blue expanse.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

“I’d almost forgotten how pretty it is.” Buffy smiled, trying to regain her equilibrium. He made her want to ignore all the reasons she couldn’t kiss him. She shouldn’t be thinking of kissing at all. He was still her professor, even if he didn’t look like one at the moment. She narrowed her eyes at him, taking in his profile while he looked out over the cliff, his hands clasped loosely in his lap. “Are you Spike?” 

The professor started, then turned towards her. “How…the book,” he said, sounding embarrassed. “I forgot.”

Buffy felt her smile slowly grow. “You really did go by Spike?”

He waved a hand, looking out at the ocean again. His face was faintly pink, but they hadn’t been out in the sun long enough for him to burn yet. “For a long time, before I came here.”

“But not anymore?”

He glanced at her, seemingly amused. “You ever heard of a professor called Spike?”

Buffy laughed a little before shaking her head. “No.” She leaned back on her hands, tipping her face up towards the sun and closing her eyes. “Not until now.”

William laughed with her. “Did you read it, then?”

Buffy hoped he thought she was flushed from the sun, all those words her mother would be horrified by dancing through her mind. “I…not yet. It was late.” She kept her eyes closed and hoped he couldn’t tell she was fibbing. She wondered if he’d even woken up like she had this morning, with her body hot and tingling from a dream caused by that book, or if he’d just think she was a silly, inexperienced girl for feeling that way about mere words.

“Ah.” He sounded disappointed. She opened her eyes a crack, peeking at him. He’d leaned back too, turning on his side and propping himself up on one elbow so he was facing her. His eyes trailed down her neck to her open collar and Buffy was glad she’d undone her buttons. She felt guilty about telling him she hadn’t read his book.

“I liked what we read in class,” she offered.

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky, tucking an arm behind his head. “Dreams?”

Buffy lay down beside him and took in his profile. “Yeah,” she said. She wished she could move closer and lay her head on his shoulder. She wanted to feel his arm curl around her and hold her close. There was a long silence as they listened to the surf crash against the rocks below. A few clouds scuttled across the sky, wispy and indistinct. “You don’t think that’s me, do you?” she asked quietly.

He turned his face towards her, his lips curved down in a frown and his expression worried. “What?”

“I mean,” Buffy tried to keep her voice from trembling, but it still wavered noticeably. “You don’t think I’ll be…broken, or frozen? I just…I have dreams too.” She paused. “I don’t want them to die,” she whispered. She closed her eyes against the brightness of the sky. William’s fingers slid across the back of her hand where it rested on the warm metal of the trunk. She curled her hand into his and felt a little better. His fingertips brushed over her skin, leaving tingles in their wake that she could feel racing through her whole body.

“Tell me,” he said.

“Tell you what?”

“Your dreams, Buffy.”

She turned her head towards him. He was still watching her, the blue of his eyes a shade somewhere between the sky and the ocean. “I want…” Buffy cast around, trying to think of something that had nothing to do with her mother’s expectations, or about being a good wife for Riley. A wish just for her. “I want to try champagne.”

William let out a laugh, and she tried to take her hand back, feeling foolish, but he held fast, his fingers curling tightly around hers and keeping her close. “Not laughing at you,” he said, his smile wide and happy. “I think that’s a very good dream.” Buffy tentatively smiled back, relaxing again. “What else?”

Buffy chewed on her lower lip, thinking. What else did she want? “I want to go places. I mean, more than just around Sunnydale. What’s England like?”

William was still smiling. “I think you’d miss the sunshine.”

Buffy huffed a laugh. “I just want to visit a place that’s nothing like here. And I want to go to New York and see all those tall buildings, like in the pictures. I want to learn how to make scrambled eggs without burning them, and to learn to drive. And…and I think I want to finish school,” she ended quietly, feeling exposed. Her dreams sounded so mundane, all laid out there like that. Why did it feel like they were so impossible?

“You know what else he wrote about dying dreams?” William asked.

“What?”

The professor stared up at the sky. His fingers were still drawing patterns on the back of her hand. She watched his mouth as he spoke. “ _Help me to shatter this darkness, to smash this night, to break this shadow into a thousand lights of sun, into a thousand whirling dreams of sun._ ”

Buffy’s breath caught in her throat. He turned to her with his eyebrows raised. The one with the scar through it that reminded her he used to be called Spike. His lips were slightly pursed again, like he’d just blown out a stream of smoke. She wanted so badly to know what it would be like to kiss him, and it seemed like maybe the universe was telling her this was the moment. “And one more thing,” she added shakily.

“What’s that, Buffy?” he asked, his eyes steady on hers. Buffy wondered if he could feel how rapidly her pulse was fluttering in her wrist.

Buffy closed the distance between them before she lost her nerve, pressing her lips to his and savoring the feel of them, soft and perfect, even better than she’d imagined. William made a surprised noise, his lips parting a little as Buffy sighed against his mouth and reluctantly pulled back. His chest was heaving like they’d done much more than share a simple kiss.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, propping herself on one elbow and gazing down at him. “I just…I had to see.”

“See what?” he asked hoarsely. He hadn’t moved.  

Buffy swallowed past the lump in her throat. “To see what it could have been like if I was someone different.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then reached up to slide his fingers through her ponytail where it was hanging over her shoulder. “What if I’d rather it was you?”

Buffy forgot how to breathe for a moment, and then she was kissing him again. This time he wrapped his arms around her, one around her waist and the other cupping the back of her skull, pulling her down so she was laying nearly on top of him. She had a hand braced against his chest as she pressed kiss after kiss against his lips. He made a noise that sounded a little bit like a growl and pulled her closer, making her gasp as her breasts pressed against his chest and his tongue invaded her mouth. Buffy’s hand curled tightly around his bicep as he stroked her tongue with his and coaxed it into his mouth. The hand on her back was sliding down and Buffy felt like her entire body was fire. His other hand was massaging the back of her skull, his fingers working their way under her ponytail elastic. She broke the kiss, panting and stared down at him in a daze.

“I don’t usually…” she tried to explain, but her brain seemed to have wandered off and she couldn’t remember what she usually didn’t do. He gently pulled on her hair until she tipped her head back so he could kiss the hollow of her throat, his lips moving down the patch of skin exposed by her open collar. “Oh, William,” she gasped.

He pulled back and Buffy felt a little colder as he frowned slightly. She’d done something wrong, she thought with dismay. He’d realized he didn’t want to kiss her after all. She wanted to cry. “Call me Spike,” he said. His hand in her hair tugged her ribbon free and it fluttered to land on the trunk beside them. Buffy blinked at him in confusion and his expression softened. “Only my stodgy old relatives ever called me William,” he added with a rueful smile.

Buffy smiled so wide it almost hurt. She reached up and helped him slide her ponytail elastic free. “Spike,” she tested. He sighed happily as her hair tumbled down around her face and he drew her in for another deep kiss. This time, Buffy eagerly stroked her tongue against his when his lips parted. He groaned against her mouth, one of his hands tangled in her hair. The hand on her back dipped below her waist to cup her backside, making Buffy squeak in surprise.

William’s— _Spike’s_ low chuckle rumbled through his chest beneath her and she could feel him smile against her lips. Buffy tentatively moved her hand from his arm to his chest, slowly sliding it down. She was rewarded with a groan and then, suddenly, they were moving.

“Oh!” Buffy grabbed his shoulders as Spike rolled them so that she was looking up at the sky and he was staring down at her in a way that made her shiver. One of his legs was between her own and he had a hand on her hip while the other was still in her hair. Nearly his whole body was against hers, all hard angles and solid limbs. Something was pressing insistently against her hip, and the moment Buffy realized what it was, she let out a surprised gasp. That was his…his thing touching her. Her daring fingers inched down his chest, running across the buttons of his shirt as her hand dipped down to his stomach and he let out another groan. Just a little further and she would be touching him there. She’d never done anything like this before, had never even wanted to do anything like this before; it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Buffy inhaled, trying to catch her breath, and Spike’s eyes dropped to her breasts. She reached up and traced the line of his jaw with her fingertip just like she’d imagined doing in the car last night. He nipped at her finger and grinned down at her before lowering his head to lay a sucking line of kisses down her throat and then further as another button on her shirt somehow came undone, exposing her bra.

“Spike,” Buffy gasped as he nuzzled into the valley of her breasts and she arched up against his mouth. Her leg had ended up wrapped around his hip, and his hand was kneading her rear as his mouth started moving up again. His touch wasn’t gentle anymore, it was urgent and demanding. She felt her own desire welling up inside, almost frightening in its intensity. She curled a hand around the back of his neck. The ends of his hair were as soft as she imagined as they slipped through her fingers. Her other hand was trapped between their bodies, and she wiggled it free so she could slide it up his back. His shirt was riding up, and the feel of his bare skin beneath her fingertips made her entire body tremble.

Spike kissed his way up her throat to her ear, sucking her earlobe into his mouth and making her shudder and gasp. “Buffy,” he murmured in her ear. “So beautiful.” Buffy turned her head, seeking his mouth, and he obliged her, rolling them slightly so they were both on their sides, their arms wrapped around each other and their legs tangled together.

This time the kiss was long and leisurely as Spike’s hand slid up under her shirt in the back and caressed her bare skin. No one had ever touched her like this. She wanted him to touch her everywhere. She wished they had gone to another beach and he’d taken off his shirt so she could see more than just his bare arms. She wanted him to undress her so she could press her breasts against his chest with nothing between them. She wanted his hand on her backside again, holding her in ways no one else had. She wanted him like she’d never wanted anyone. It wasn’t fair that this was the only time she’d ever feel this way. Buffy fisted a hand into the front of his shirt, her fingers itching to undo his buttons, and let out a whimper.

Spike pulled back and rubbed the tip of his nose against hers. “Alright?” he whispered.

Buffy nodded, biting her lip and trying to memorize what he looked like in this moment. The long shadows of the tree were starting to slide over his face. She reached up and followed the edge of one shadow along his cheekbone with her fingers. She never wanted this to end, even though it never should have even started. She was supposed to marry someone else. Someone that had never made her feel like this. Buffy closed her eyes briefly and tried to push Riley from her mind. She could feel guilt creeping over her.

“What’s wrong?” Spike asked in concern, his hand immediately moving out from under her shirt and smoothing it down Buffy’s back.

She shook her head. “Nothing,” she managed. “Nothing’s wrong.” She tried to smile. “Just silly things.”

Spike heaved a sigh and turned onto his back, tugging her along with him so she was lying curled against his side, her arm across his chest and her head cradled against his shoulder. His hand was sliding soothingly through her hair. “Buffy,” he said softly.

Buffy nestled in against him and inhaled, trying to memorize how he felt, how he smelled, so she could tuck this moment away and keep it forever. “Tell me one of your dreams,” she whispered. They lay in silence as Spike’s hand carded through her hair.

“I wish,” he finally said, “I’d been a better man, and hadn’t used up all my chances before coming here.” Buffy frowned. That didn’t sound like a dream. The arm he had around her squeezed her tighter. “Then it wouldn’t matter who we were,” he murmured against her hair.

Buffy closed her eyes, her fist clenching the fabric of his shirt even tighter. She wanted to wish for that too, except there was still Riley, and her parents’ disappointment. And he was still her professor. The whole world would have to be different. Buffy pressed her lips against the bare skin of his throat before tilting her head back and waiting for his lips to meet hers, but instead she heard him sigh. She opened her eyes.

He cupped her cheek. “Buffy, you have to know how much I…but we can’t. I should never have...there’s my job, and you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You’re young; you don’t need some washed up academic mucking up your plans.” His voice was heavy with regret as he helped her sit up and brushed her hair back away from her face.

“But…” Buffy said helplessly. She couldn’t dispute his words, even though she desperately wanted to. The butterflies in her stomach had all turned to stones. Spike scooted down the trunk of the car, pushing himself off the end and landing on his feet. Buffy followed him mechanically, letting him help her down off the back of the car, his hands lingering on her waist for a moment like he didn’t want to let go. She wished he wouldn’t. The wind was picking up a little as the sun slid down towards the ocean. Buffy reached up to push her hair out of her eyes.

“Here.” Spike leaned over the trunk, coming back up with her hair elastic, and she halfheartedly tried to put her hair into some semblance of order. He was watching her intently, one hip propped up against his car. He reached out and carefully did up two of the buttons of her blouse, his fingers barely brushing against her skin. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans when he finished. “Buffy, I want you to know I…” He let out an exasperated sigh. “If things weren’t so bloody complicated I wouldn’t ever let you go, you understand?”

Buffy gave up on her hair, dropping her arms down and crossing them over her chest. “Okay,” she said softly. Her heart lurched a little. Everything was so confusing. The man she wanted she couldn’t have, and the man she was supposed to want paled in comparison. “I’m sorry that I…” She couldn’t bring herself to continue.

“Don’t ever be sorry for that,” Spike said firmly. Behind him, she spotted her blue hair ribbon snaking across the ground towards the cliff, fluttering through the air for a moment before it disappeared over the edge. She shivered.

Spike pulled one hand from his pocket and rubbed his knuckles along her arm. “Cold?”

“A little,” Buffy admitted.

“Let me take you home.”

Buffy looked out at the setting sun. She was probably already late but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The dinner tonight loomed in her mind as an event to soldier through instead of the happy occasion it was supposed to be. “Alright.”

Spike gave her the shadow of a smile. She missed his wide, happy grin, but she supposed it was her own fault that it had disappeared. She’d known he was her professor when she’d kissed him, just like she’d known that she was supposed to marry Riley. She’d known they were impossible. She wondered if all of her dreams were going to cause this much heartache.

She turned to make her way back to the front of the car, grabbing her sweater off the trunk where she’d left it earlier. Spike’s hand settled on the small of her back as they walked together. The way he touched her made her want to cry at the unfairness of it all. He opened the driver’s door and let her slide across the seat before he climbed in beside her.

Buffy pulled on her cardigan and tucked her hands between her knees, trying to get warm, as Spike tapped an unlit cigarette against the car door frame and the engine started with a roar. He glanced at her once more as he put the big car into gear, like he was hoping she would say something. She had no idea what he was expecting. “I won’t…I would never tell anyone.” 

Spike’s brow wrinkled a little. “That’s not…” He sighed and took a moment to light his cigarette, drawing on it and letting out the smoke in one long breath. “Just promise you’ll be happy, Buffy.”

Buffy stared out the front windshield as he started to ease the car across the uneven ground toward the road. “I promise.” The words felt like a lie the moment they left her mouth.


	10. How You've Changed

PRESENT DAY

“So, Anya’s out because we can’t risk her turning up as a vengeance demon in the dream,” Willow said glumly. “And I really don’t think I should go in, especially after what happened last time I tried this spell on my own. I think Buffy dreamed about having Spike’s kid.” Willow scrunched up her nose before looking hopefully at her girlfriend. “Tara?”

Tara’s expression went from worried to surprised. “Me?”

“Well, you…” Willow seemed to be searching for words.

“Don’t hate Spike,” Anya interjected.

Willow frowned at Xander’s girlfriend. “I was going to say that she would probably be neutral, so she could tell us what happens. And I don’t hate him! I just don’t like him very much. You know, he did kidnap me once, and then he tried to kill me before he knew he had that no-bitey chip. It’s not like he’s been very nice either.”

“Didn’t Angel try to kill you at least once?” Anya asked curiously.

Willow blinked. “Well, yeah, but that was different. He was all evil and stuff!”

“Uh,” Tara raised her hand. “I think maybe we should just wait until everyone wakes up. Then they can tell us what happened and we can talk to Buffy.” She paused. “We really should have tried that first.” 

“We did, but she wasn’t listening!” Willow protested. “She wouldn’t tell me anything about what happened in her other dream.”

“Maybe…” Tara started.

“Enough.” Giles set down his empty scotch glass and got up from the table where he’d been bent over a thick book. “Someone should at least be present to record what happens this time.” He picked up a dining chair and strode across the room, setting it directly next to Spike and Buffy before sitting down. Giles reached out, his expression determined, and made contact with the back of Buffy’s bare hand. Almost immediately, he pitched over sideways, his head coming to rest against the side of the chair Spike and Buffy occupied as he fell asleep.

Willow’s eyes went wide. Tara’s mouth was hanging open.

Anya reached the end of her magazine and snapped it shut. “Are we still ordering a pizza?”

***

The car ride to her house was almost entirely silent, except for the radio playing softly in the background. Buffy opened her mouth to speak at least a dozen times but couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Spike smoked one cigarette, and then immediately lit a second one as he drove them back into town. He glanced over at her occasionally, and she just openly watched him as he drove. This would probably be the last time they’d be alone and she wanted to remember every moment of it. The muscles of his forearms bunched and flexed as he steered the car through the quiet streets of her neighborhood and as he flicked the butt of his cigarette out the window.

Buffy drew in a steadying breath as they got close to her street. “Wait,” she said softly. She pointed through the windshield. “Go up a block and circle around?” He glanced at her questioningly but followed her directions. “Here,” Buffy said as they drew up next to an overgrown oleander bush. Joyce complained about their neighbor not trimming it whenever she and Buffy were on the back porch. Buffy made a last attempt to smooth her hair before dropping her hand with a sigh. “I-”

“Buffy-” Spike started. They both stopped and he gave her a small smile. “Go ahead.”

Buffy took a breath. “I wanted to…um, thank you. For the ride and for believing in me and…everything,” she ended lamely. She felt her cheeks heat up. She wanted to tell him how much today had meant to her, but she didn’t want to sound like the silly, inexperienced girl she knew she was.

Spike was looking at her earnestly. “I never…I’m not sorry it happened. Just sorry about the rest.” His secret-smile made a brief appearance and Buffy felt something heavy settle on her chest, constricting her lungs.  

“Me too,” she finally managed.

Spike reached over and his fingers brushed against her cheek. “Just…” he said, his voice low and rough. “Don’t let anyone ever talk you out of trying champagne. Or any of those dreams of yours.”

Buffy let out a tiny, breathless laugh. “I won’t.” She reached up and curled her fingers around his palm, closing her eyes for a moment. “I wish…”

She suddenly felt his lips on hers again and her eyelids fluttered open in surprise. His eyelashes were long and dark and the kiss brief. He gently cupped her face as he pulled back. “I know, kitten. Me too.” He put his hands on the steering wheel, gripping so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. 

Buffy turned to open the car door, unable to bring herself to say goodbye. She wasn’t sure if seeing him in class was going to ease the pain in her heart or make it a thousand times worse. She climbed out of his car and swung the heavy door shut. The thump of it closing sounded so final. Buffy turned, straightened her shoulders, and marched towards the back door of her house. With any luck her mother would be too busy to notice the state of her hair and Buffy could get ready for the evening. She just hoped she could make it though without bursting into tears.

***

Buffy managed to get halfway up the stairs before her mother’s keen ears picked up that she was home.

“Buffy? Is that you?” Joyce called. Buffy heard her parents chatting in low voices, their conversation accompanied by the gentle clinking of glass that indicated her father was mixing a batch of martinis.

“Yes?” Buffy called back, hurrying towards the top of the stairs.

“You are late, young lady! You’d better change and come straight down.”

Buffy winced. “Yes, mother!”

She slipped into her room and stared glumly at the dress she’d laid out for tonight. Its happy, bright pattern was almost painful to look at. Buffy sorted through her other dresses before finding one in a subdued dove grey that her mother had bought her to wear for solemn occasions. It was perfect for tonight. It buttoned up all the way to her throat and the hem fell well below her knees.

Buffy changed quickly, splashing water on her face and combing out the tangles in her hair before redoing her ponytail. She rummaged through her drawer and chose a ribbon at random, a dark green one that didn’t seem like it would clash. She slipped her feet into the low heels she only wore on special occasions and took a deep breath, turning to look in the mirror. She hardly recognized herself. Her face was pale and drawn, and her eyes dull. The dress fit her just fine, but the skirt wasn’t as full as she usually liked. She wondered for a split second if Riley would notice before dismissing the thought. He’d been so distracted lately she wasn’t sure he’d even notice if she didn’t show up tonight. The professor, meanwhile, seemed to notice everything about her. Buffy let out another sigh.

“Buffy!” Joyce’s voice was slightly shriller than normal. “The Finns will be here any minute!”

Right on cue, the doorbell rang. Buffy lifted her chin and want downstairs to greet her future husband and in-laws.

***

“Use this.” Joyce shoved a little bowl of sauce into Buffy’s hands and gestured at the oven distractedly. “Just on the top, then raise the temperature for a minute.”

Buffy obediently followed her mom’s instructions, pulling the meatloaf out of the oven and brushing some of the ketchup mixture across the top before sticking it back in and twisting the temperature dial to increase the heat. She set the bowl on the counter and waited for her mother’s next instructions.

She could hear her father and Riley’s parents laughing in the other room as Hank entertained everyone. The pie she and her mother had made earlier was sitting near the stove, waiting for its turn. Joyce was frowning as she cut the biscuits into the right shape and put them on a sheet pan. “The butter, Buffy.” She paused. “I thought you were going the wear the new dress we picked out?” 

Buffy picked up another bowl, this one holding melted butter, and started to brush the tops of all the biscuits. “It didn’t fit.” Riley was laughing loudly in the other room and suddenly it didn’t seem fair that her mom was always the one to plan and cook and play the hostess when all Hank had to do was mix martinis. Was that what Riley expected of her, too? Buffy had always pictured future-her arm in arm with Riley at neighborhood gatherings, not slaving away in a kitchen all alone while everyone else had fun.

“Mom?”

Joyce looked up from reshaping the dough as she cut the last few biscuits. “Yes, dear?”

“Did you...” Buffy bit her lip, trying to phrase her question just right. “Did you ever have dreams?”

Joyce stared at her, perplexed, and paused in her biscuit-making. “Did you have a bad dream? You have seemed a little out of sorts today.”

“No.” Buffy shook her head, feeling a little frustrated. “I meant, like, life dreams. Did you ever dream about doing things?”

Joyce slapped the last of the biscuits onto the sheet pan, her brow furrowed. “Honey, what are you talking about? Doing what things?”

Buffy shook her head and went back to her buttering, her shoulders hunching a little. “Nothing, nevermind.”

Joyce sighed just as the phone rang shrilly.

Buffy jumped, startled, and wiped her hands on her apron before moving into the hall to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hank Summers please,” a perky female voice said.

Buffy’s heart sank, she knew what that meant. “I’ll get him.” She set the receiver next to its base and hurried back to the kitchen. “It’s Dad’s secretary.”

Joyce was standing with her back to Buffy, her hands clenched tightly over the lip of the sink. “Of course it is,” she said wearily. “They can’t let him have one nice dinner with his family, can they?”

Buffy moved slowly across the room, her heels creating a duller version of the clacking noise her mother’s shoes always made on the linoleum. “Do you want me to…”

“No,” Joyce cut her off with a wave. “Go tell your father.” She sniffed for a moment. “Did you pull the meatloaf out of the oven?”

Buffy’s eyes widened at the same time as her mother’s. Joyce shooed her out of the room as she rescued their dinner and Buffy stopped just short of the living room to remove her apron and make sure her hair was neat before going to inform Hank that work was, once again, calling him in. It seemed to happen more and more often lately, and Buffy knew it made her mother worry, but her father didn’t seem to notice. She hoped the getaway next weekend would help her parents work things out. Her appearance sorted, Buffy went to inform her father and call everyone to dinner.

***

“I’m telling you, they’re popping up everywhere,” Mr. Finn announced loudly, taking another swig of wine.

Buffy picked at the meatloaf on her plate. Her mother had served her one of the slightly charred end pieces and taken the other one for herself so their guests would never be the wiser about Buffy’s little mishap. Riley had polished off his entire plate, and was working on seconds as the scent of a baking apple pie wafted in from the kitchen. He’d paid little attention to Buffy all evening, other than his usual perfunctory kiss when he’d arrived, instead hanging onto his father’s every word and occasionally complimenting Joyce on the food.

Buffy supposed that he had pulled her chair out for her, after his mother had made some sort of harrumphing noise that had Riley leaping to attention.

“Your biscuits are so wonderfully fluffy, Joyce, what’s your secret?” Mrs. Finn said, putting another roll on Riley’s plate. Buffy watched her future husband eat and wondered, rather uncharitably, if he would have even noticed that a piece of his meatloaf was burned.

“Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” Joyce said cheerfully. “And a healthy dollop of lard.”

“They’re getting sneakier, too,” Riley’s dad continued. “Just the other day we had one of the new guys come in for his loyalty test, and you know what he said when he failed it? Said we just didn’t want anyone we didn’t like working for the city. Claimed we were discriminating against ordinary Americans. Can you believe it?” Riley’s dad shook his head in disbelief. “The damn radicals are spreading their lies everywhere. Thank god for the list, or we’d have no way to keep track of those Reds.”

“Yes, dear,” Mrs. Finn said in a soothing voice that Buffy suspected she used quite a lot. “We’re certainly lucky to have all of you keeping us safe.”

“Damn straight,” Mr. Finn said proudly. He grinned at Riley. “The boys are looking forward to having you on board, son.”

He finished his wine and Joyce nodded at Buffy from the other end of the table. Buffy got up and went to the kitchen to find the second bottle her mother had carefully selected for their meal. Hank had opened both before he’d had to leave for work, offering his apologies to the Finns. Buffy had seen him wink at Riley before he’d left, so she supposed the proposal was still on.

She wondered if she was supposed to have this heavy feeling of dread weighing her down on the night of her engagement. Obviously, marriage was not something to be taken lightly. She’d heard the whispers when one of the couples her parents had known divorced, and while the wife had stayed in town for a while, she’d stopped receiving invitations to any of the usual functions. Maybe Buffy was just feeling the weight of the responsibility she’d be taking on once she was Riley’s wife.

Buffy stared at the kitchen walls, with their brightly colored pattern reminiscent of peacock tails, and felt slightly ill. Was this destined to be her only domain after their wedding? A kitchen with loud wallpaper and a refrigerator full of food to cook while she waited for Riley to come home? What would she do during the day? Surely vacuuming wouldn’t take up that much of her time. Would he let her finish school? Did he want children right away? Would that mean she couldn’t travel at all? Buffy braced herself against the kitchen counter, her vision swimming. She tried to take deep gulps of air, feeling like none of it was reaching her lungs.

“Buffy, did you find the wine?” Joyce peeked in around the doorway and gestured at her daughter. “Come on, honey, we’re waiting on you.”

Buffy mechanically followed her mother back into the dining room and resumed her seat, setting the wine on the table. Mr. Finn poured himself another generous glass and topped off his wife and Joyce’s. “A toast,” he said, lifting the glass. “To the future.”  Buffy fumbled for her water glass and lifted it with a shaking hand.

“The future,” everyone echoed, taking a sip of their drinks.

Riley pushed himself back from the table and turned to Buffy, his expression more serious than she’d ever seen off the football field. “Ba- uh, Buffy.” He fumbled something out of his pocket, and Buffy’s eyes widened when she saw the black jeweler’s box he was holding. She was having a hard time focusing on his face and it was still hard to breathe.

Someone else at the table said something, but Buffy only registered the deep tones that identified the speaker as Riley’s father. The high collar of her dress was too tight and she had a sudden, terrifying vision of having to button her shirts all the way up for the rest of her life. Riley’s mouth was moving but she couldn’t hear a word he was saying.

“Well?” Riley said, shaking the box in his hand a little. He was kneeling in front of her chair and looking at her expectantly. White spots were dancing at the edge of Buffy’s vision.

“I…” Buffy tried to inhale but only succeeded in making a strange, high-pitched noise that seemed to startle Riley.

He frowned at her. “Babe?”

“I can’t…” Buffy croaked, swaying slightly in her chair.

Joyce started to get up from her chair. “Buffy, do you feel faint, dear?”

“Oh my,” Riley’s mother gasped.

Riley stood quickly, grasping Buffy’s hand and pulling her up from her chair. “Let’s get you some fresh air, babe.” Everyone at the table was standing now, too. “I’ve got her,” Riley said jovially. Buffy let him lead her to the front door and out onto the porch, where he steered her towards the bench her mother kept out front. “Why don’t you have a seat?” he encouraged.

The cool night air was already easing its way into her lungs and her legs felt a little less wobbly. Buffy stopped and grasped the railing by the porch steps. “No, I don’t want to sit.”

Riley lifted his eyebrows. “Well, fine, but hang onto something so you don’t fall over.” He plopped down on the bench and leaned back, stretching his arms across the top on it. “What’s going on, babe?”

Buffy leaned her head against a wooden pillar and looked up at the night sky. The stars were visible, but she’d bet the view from her cliffside spot was even more spectacular. She’d never been there at night. She almost wanted to ask Riley to drive her up there, but she couldn’t bear to think of him being in the same place she’d shared with the professor, not now, when everything still hurt so much. “Riley,” she said softly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, babe.”

Buffy turned to lean back against the railing, her arms crossed over her chest. The air was chillier than it had been inside, but at least she could breathe normally again. “What do you think about me finishing school?”

Riley frowned at her. “Like, putting off the wedding for two more years?”

Buffy furrowed her brow. She hadn’t considered that. “Or I could go while you were at work,” she suggested.

Riley’s frown deepened. “What for?”

“I just…” Buffy cast around for a reason other than she just wanted to but wasn’t able to think of one. “I like it,” she finally admitted. “It would be nice to get my degree.”

“You don’t even have a major,” Riley said dismissively. “It’ll be fine. My dad’s going to get me a good job. We’ll be all set, Buffy. Besides, you know you won’t have time once we have kids.”

“But,” Buffy nervously bit her lower lip, trying not to let it tremble. “Do you think we’d have time to travel a little, first?”

“Like down to the city?” Riley looked confused. “What for? Shopping?”

“No, not just to L.A. I was hoping…maybe we could visit New York?”

“I’ll just take you to the pictures, babe. There’s nowhere nicer than here,” Riley declared. “Where’s this coming from? Has Willow been talking about all this stuff? I told you not to listen to that feminist mumbo-jumbo.” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “You really need to stop hanging around with her.”

Buffy jerked her head back like she’d been slapped. “She’s my best friend.”

Riley waved a hand in annoyance. “I’m sure you’ll meet all the wives once I start working. You can make new friends.”

“I…” Buffy stared at him, at a loss. He hadn’t taken a thing she’d said seriously and now she wasn’t even going to be allowed to keep her friends? Buffy could feel the shadows stealing over her dreams, hiding them from view.  “Please, can we talk about this?”

“Buffy.” Riley sounded impatient. “My parents are waiting for us inside. We can talk about this later.” He stood up and walked to the front door, expecting her to follow. Buffy grasped the railing behind her for support.

“No,” she said quietly.

Riley paused with his hand on the doorknob, turning back to look at her. “No?”

Buffy shook her head. “No, we need to talk about this now. I have to know before we…before I can say yes.”

Riley’s face closed down. “Are you serious? After all of this…” He took a deep breath. “Buffy. Come inside and put on the darn ring.”

 Buffy gripped the wooden railing so tightly that the sharp edges bit into her hands. Her heart thumped in her chest and she was feeling lightheaded again, but this time it was more of an exhilarated kind of dizziness. Why shouldn’t she be allowed to keep some of her dreams, if Riley got to have all of his? “No,” she whispered.

Riley set his jaw and yanked the front door open. “We’ll talk when you’re ready to be reasonable,” he hissed at her before heading inside. The door slammed shut behind him.

Buffy was shaking from the effort of staying upright. She managed to stumble down the porch stairs and make her way to the backyard. She could hear raised voices in the house and hoped her mother wasn’t going to be too angry with her.

Buffy settled herself on the steps of the back porch and looked up at the sky. She wondered if the professor would be proud of her just then, or if he’d think she was ridiculous for not standing up to Riley sooner. Buffy pulled her dress down over her knees and hugged them. No, she decided with a tiny smile, he’d be proud of her, no matter how long it took her. She could picture the way he’d look at her, his eyes shining with appreciation for her bravery even as his hands crept up under her skirts and undid the fastenings of her hideously dull dress. Buffy reached up to undo the button of her collar as her body heated. She closed her eyes, remembering how he’d kissed her throat.

The door behind her opened abruptly, making Buffy jump in surprise.

“Buffy?” Joyce definitely didn’t sound happy. “Here you are!” The front door slammed on the other side of the house. “What is going on with you?” Buffy’s shoulders tensed as she stood, turning to face her mother. Joyce shook an unopened bottle at Buffy. “Your father bought champagne for what was supposed to be a celebration and now it’s just going to go to waste. I can’t believe you!”

“I-”

“I don’t want to hear excuses, young lady. You’d better straighten out this mess before someone else snaps him up and I have to explain what happened to your father. I swear, Buffy, I don’t understand what goes on in your head.” Joyce thumped the heavy bottle down on top of the garbage bin and glared before turning to march back into the house.

Buffy stood there for a moment before going over to pick up the champagne bottle, turning it over in her hands. It was cold and covered in condensation. Buffy pressed it against her flushed cheek and stifled a giggle. Well, at least she might get one dream fulfilled out of tonight’s disaster. She tiptoed into the house. Frank Sinatra was playing a little too loud on the turntable in the living room, which meant her mother was well into the wine, so Buffy felt secure in sneaking the pilfered bottle up to her room and stashing it in her closet for later.

She changed into her pajamas and stared at her door for a long minute before closing it all the way and pushing a chair against it so no one would disturb her.

After climbing into bed, Buffy pulled out _Howl_ , opening it with trembling hands. She turned to the page she’d stopped on last night and snuggled down under her flowered quilt, reading with wide eyes. When she reached the end, she snapped the book shut and hid it away in her nightstand before turning out the light. She stared at the ceiling for a long moment, clutching the quilt tightly and imagining the professor reading those words, and maybe even saying them out loud to her, like he’d done with the other poem out at the cliff.

With just the light of the moon and stars illuminating her room, Buffy slid one hand down to the waistband of her pajamas and the other up under her top to cup her breast. She hardly ever let herself do this, but after that dream she’d had, and then her afternoon...she couldn’t bear it anymore. She pictured Spike’s admiring face again as he undid the buttons of her dress, exposing her bare breasts. Buffy’s breathing sped up as she rubbed her fingers over her nipple and pinched it, letting out a gasp and squeezing her eyes shut. She did it a second time, imagining it was Spike’s hand touching her this way. Her nipples were both peaked and stiff now as her other hand slid down a little further and she rubbed between her legs.

She remembered how he’d felt pressed against her when they were kissing this afternoon, how his…his thing had been rubbing against her hip. What if she’d been wearing a skirt then? Would he have slid his hand up her thigh like he’d done in the car after the football game?

Buffy rubbed a little harder between her legs, letting out a frustrated whimper and pausing to slide her hand under the waistband of her pajamas so she was touching bare skin. She moaned as her fingers slipped through the wetness between her legs and she pushed down harder, biting her lip as she imagined the professor pushing up her skirts and pressing that hardness right where her hand was. Her fingers rubbed faster as imaginary-Spike kissed his way down her throat towards her breasts and rocked that hard part of him against her center.

“Oh!” Buffy gasped as her eyes flew open and her hips jerked. The wonderful feeling she’d woken up with was back, but this time it was sharper and more urgent. She touched herself until the sensations became unbearable and she had to pull her hand away. She wondered if being with a man was anything like this, like she was standing on the edge of a precipice and thinking of leaping.

She lay panting in the darkness of her bedroom, her body throbbing, and tried to remember why she couldn’t kiss Spike again. There was Riley, but she guessed he might not be her boyfriend anymore, if his swift exit was any indication. And there had been her parents, but they were going to be mad about Riley anyways, so what difference did that make? Then there was the fact that Spike was her professor…but hadn’t he said he’d wanted her to be happy?

Her eyelids drooped and Buffy snuggled down under her covers, hoping her dreams would be as nice as her fantasies.


	11. I Dare You To Try

The house was quiet when Buffy woke up on Monday. The rest of her weekend had passed in a blur of chores to keep herself busy and out of her mother’s way.

The sun was just peeking in her window, but she had to walk to school this morning so she needed the head start. She let herself have a couple minutes of snuggling under the covers and basking in the feeling of being her own woman before flinging back the quilt determinedly and getting out of bed. She stood in front of her closet, frowning deeply for a long time, until she finally gave up and went into the bathroom to wash up and do her hair.

The washing went swimmingly, but then Buffy found herself staring blankly into the mirror. She’d started to put her hair up before realizing she didn’t always have to wear it in a ponytail. That had been a habit she’d picked up when she’d made the cheerleading squad and just never stopped. But she wasn’t a cheerleader anymore. She didn’t know what she was.

Buffy dragged the brush through her hair and remembered how nice it had felt when the professor had run his fingers through it. She was going to leave it down, she decided, putting the brush away.

She snuck out her blusher and added some to her cheeks, then rummaged through the drawers until she found an old tube of mascara that she’d been allowed to wear when she was cheering. It would do for now. She carefully applied two coats and smiled at her reflection.

She pulled out her black pedal-pushers that she’d stopped wearing when her mother had told her they were a smidge too small and wiggled into them before putting on a pretty mint-green blouse and not even bothering to do up the top two buttons. She dug through her dresser drawer until she found a black ribbon to use as a headband, pinning it into place. She slipped on her saddle shoes and tied them quickly before sneaking down the stairs and out the front door with a spring in her step.

***

“Willow!” Buffy waved at her friend and hurried down the hall, her books tucked into the crook of one arm. Willow’s jaw dropped.

“Buffy?” Willow said in a bewildered tone. “Uh, hi?” She eyed Buffy’s outfit. “Is everything okay?”

Buffy peered over Willow’s shoulder at the open classroom door. Students were just starting to trickle in and she wanted to sit in the front today. “Peachy keen,” Buffy replied. “Come on, let’s go in.”

“Buffy.” Willow caught her elbow and Buffy stopped, frowning at her friend. “I don’t…how was your weekend?”

Buffy nodded absently. “Fine, but I’ll tell you later okay?” She headed for the classroom door.

“Did Riley drive you this morning?” Willow asked, catching up with her.

“Nope.”

“So, he hasn’t seen what you’re wearing?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I didn’t realize he had to approve of my outfits.”

“He doesn’t!” Willow said, sounding insulted. “You should wear whatever you want!” She looked confused. “Um, yeah, so it’s good that you’re…doing that.”

“Great.” Buffy flashed her friend a smile and checked to make sure she’d undone just the right amount of buttons. She was pretty sure she could undo one more but she left it for now. “We should sit up front today.”

“Up front?” Willow looked even more confused. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Buffy ignored Willow’s question as she reached up to smooth down her hair before stepping through the doorway of the classroom. Spike—well, she supposed he was Professor Pratt at the moment—was leaning against the desk in front of the chalkboard and speaking to a man wearing a brown tweed suit. The other man looked vaguely familiar, but Buffy wasn’t particularly interested in him.

The professor was wearing his gray suit today with another blue tie, but this one was a deep midnight blue. Buffy decided that was a good sign, since her plan ended with them up on the cliff under the night sky. The in-between part, well, she was going to start working on that right now.

Buffy knew the moment he caught sight of her. His eyes widened and his hands, which had been braced against the edge of the desk, curled around and clutched the wood tightly. Buffy bit her lip, trying to keep from smiling too triumphantly, and peeked up through her lashes at him. He was staring right at her with his lips parted like he’d forgotten whatever he’d been saying.

The other man turned slightly and it was Buffy’s turn to be surprised. She straightened her shoulders and tried to look very studious as the head of the English Department gave her a once over, frowning. “Hello, miss…” the man said. Buffy frantically tried to remember his name.

“Hey, Dr. Giles,” Willow said cheerfully.

The man’s disapproving frown softened slightly. “Good morning, Miss Rosenburg.” He turned back to Buffy.

“Um, Buffy Summers?” she said cautiously.

Dr. Giles nodded and his expression became less severe. “Yes, of course. I didn’t recog…” He cleared his throat. “Well. Are you enjoying Professor Pratt’s class?” Buffy was pretty sure there was some extra emphasis on the word ‘professor’ in his question.

“Yes?” she answered, darting a look at Spike. He was slightly flushed and he seemed to be carefully examining her too-tight pants. Buffy ducked her head to hide her smile.

“Excellent.” Dr. Giles turned back to Spike and raised his eyebrows as Spike guiltily shifted his gaze and attempted to look busy. Dr. Giles glanced at Buffy and she pretended to survey to room like she was looking for a place to sit even though she already knew where she was heading. “Miss Summers, if you would be so kind as to come by my office after class?”

Buffy turned towards him, startled. “Did I do something wrong?” Willow looked similarly stricken beside her. Spike was fumbling in his coat pockets and pulling out his cigarettes as Dr. Giles smiled gently.

“Of course not,” Dr. Giles said soothingly. “I just like to check in with the students from time to time.”

“Oh,” Buffy said, trying to calm her racing heart. “Um, okay?”

Spike tucked a cigarette between his lips and frowned, patting himself down. Buffy hoped Dr. Giles couldn’t tell that she was much more interested in watching the professor search his pockets for his lighter than school just then. Spike tucked a hand into one of his front trouser pockets and Buffy felt her knees go weak as the movement pulled the material tight across his hips. She could almost see the outline of his…she averted her eyes and felt her cheeks heat up at Spike pulled his lighter out of his pocket and got his cigarette lit.

Dr. Giles’ lips thinned slightly as he glanced between her and the professor once more. “Quite. I’ll see you after class, Miss Summers.”

Buffy started as Willow elbowed her. “Um, yes. After class.” 

Dr. Giles cast one last look at Spike, who was now studiously examining a sheaf of paperwork, and left the classroom. Buffy headed for two open seats front row center as Spike set down his papers and greeted another student. When they reached their seats, Willow plopped down with a sigh and set her stack of books on the small desk.

Buffy leisurely thumbed through her books and picked the ones she’d need for Spike’s class, setting them on her own desk. The rest she decided to put on the floor. She bent at the waist, keeping her legs and her back straight at she moved, thanking all those years of cheerleading for teaching her something useful. Buffy slowly straightened up and noticed Willow was staring at her with wide eyes. She flashed Willow a smile before finally sitting down.

Spike was taking a deep drag of his cigarette. One of the other students was talking to him, but his eyes were squarely on her. His tie was askew. Buffy was a little miffed that she’d missed him tugging on it, but she did appreciate that he’d undone a collar button so she could see the hollow of his throat. She was pretty sure that was one of her favorite parts of him (so far).

“Buffy,” Willow hissed under her breath. “What is going on with you?”

Buffy opened her notebook and pulled out a pen. “Nothing much. I think Riley and I broke up.”

Willow’s jaw dropped for the second time that day. “You think…what?” Her eyes darted toward the professor. “Um, Buffy, why-”

The professor straightened up just then, stubbing his cigarette out and clearing his throat. “Class is about to start,” Buffy said hastily. “I’ll tell you later.” Willow stared at her incredulously. 

“Good morning,” the professor said, his gaze sweeping across the classroom. This time, when his eyes lingered on Buffy, she didn’t have to imagine what it would be like to kiss him, because now she knew. It was a heady feeling. She tapped her pen against her lips, drawing the top of it into her mouth for a moment and watched as Spike fumbled the chalk. His hand reached up to tug on the knot of his tie and Buffy propped her chin on one hand, watching avidly.

It was strange to have all these new feelings swirling through her, like she was waking up from a years-long nap and realizing everything she’d felt before was just a shadow of what was real.

Willow poked her and Buffy glanced down at the piece of paper her friend had slipped onto her desk. In bold, hasty letters, Willow had scribbled: _Riley???_

Buffy cast one more glance at Spike as he called on another student to read something aloud, and considered what to say to her friend.

 _We didn’t get engaged._ She finally wrote.

Willow looked at her worriedly and scribbled a little more. _He didn’t ask? Are you okay?_

Buffy made a face. _I’m fine. He asked but I didn’t accept._

Willow didn’t seem to know what to write after that. She looked torn between paying attention to the professor and demanding Buffy spill everything.

Buffy didn’t have any trouble at all deciding to pay attention to the professor. He was nodding along as another student finished the reading, his face serious. As he strode across the room and passed by, Buffy caught a hint of cigarette smoke and the underlying scent of him, making her lower belly pulse faintly.

When he started repeating the lines one by one and asking for responses to them, Buffy lost herself in the sound of his low, deliberate tone, letting the words wash over her. He came to a halt just in front of her, and she found herself staring at the spot where his shirt was tucked into his waistband, the buttons slightly off center. She remembered touching him there, her hand sliding down his chest. The muscles of his stomach had quivered wonderfully under her fingertips, but she hadn’t had the courage to go lower. She wondered what the part of him she’d felt against her hip would feel like pressed against her palm. She was starting to feel a little flushed.

Buffy tugged on her open collar and the professor’s voice faltered for a minute. She lifted her gaze as he patted the pockets of his suit jacket. A blush was creeping across his pale skin. His eyes met hers for a moment before darting away.

“Miss Rosenburg,” he said. Willow straightened up in her seat. “The next passage?”

Willow began reading and he turned away, shrugging out of his suit jacket and tossing it over a chair before picking up his pack of cigarettes and shaking one out. He perched on the corner of the desk and lit the cigarette with a practiced motion.

He wasn’t watching Willow. He was staring right at Buffy, and she felt herself grow even warmer. Her fingers trailed down her open collar and his eyes followed her hand. She fiddled with her third button before undoing it, exposing more of her cleavage. Spike took a long drag of his cigarette and his blush deepened. Buffy could feel her heart thump a little faster.

Willow came to the end and looked up expectantly. The classroom was silent for a long moment and Buffy lifted her eyebrows at the professor, who shook himself. “Excellent,” he said, his voice a little raspier than it had been a moment ago. “Let’s continue.”

Buffy smiled down at her book and hoped he’d meant that for her, too.

***

By the end of class, the professor had rolled up his shirtsleeves and smoked most of a pack of cigarettes, while Buffy had accumulated a series of increasingly alarmed notes from Willow. The last one had read: _WHAT HAPPENED ON SATURDAY!?_

Buffy hadn’t answered any of them. She didn’t know how. She was almost afraid that if she told Willow about kissing the professor up on the cliff it would turn out to have been a mirage. Something she’d conjured up out of her schoolgirl fantasies. Except there was nothing imaginary about the way Spike was looking at her as the rest of the students filed out. He was standing behind the desk and shuffling his paperwork, but his eyes were at half-mast and full of something that made Buffy shiver.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” Buffy said to Willow.

Willow narrowed her eyes. “Buffy, I don’t know what’s going on, but just…be careful.”

“I will be,” Buffy replied absently.

Willow’s expression softened. “I’m sorry about Riley.”

Buffy focused for a moment on her friend’s face, touched. “Thank you.” Willow gave her a tentative smile and headed for the door of the classroom, her books in her arms.

When she was the only one left, Buffy bent down to pick her books up off the floor, making sure the professor could peek down her shirt if he wanted to, and straightened up again. When she looked up, Spike was staring at her, papers forgotten, bracing himself with his palms flat against the desk. He looked like he was in pain, and Buffy immediately stood up, all teasing forgotten. “Spi—Professor? Are you alright?” Slowly, he shook his head. Buffy crossed the room and rounded the desk, dropping her books on it and coming to a halt in front of him. This close she could see he was trembling slightly. “What’s wrong?”

He swallowed. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Oh.

Buffy couldn’t hide her pleased smile as she moved a little closer to him. “No,” she said softly. “But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

“Buffy…” Her name came out of his mouth like a plea.

Buffy rested her hands flat on his chest and slowly slid them up towards his collar. “You said,” she told him quietly, “that you wanted me to be happy.” She saw his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. Carefully, she slipped her fingers under the knot of his tie and adjusted it so that it lay flat again. “And that I shouldn’t give up on my dreams.”

“Yes, but-” His voice had an edge of desperation in it.

“So,” Buffy continued. “I thought I’d start with you.” She blushed as she said it, hoping he didn’t think she sounded foolish. She stared nervously at his tie.

“Me?” Spike said weakly. His hands came to rest on her hips, his fingers grazing along her side like he wanted to be sure she was really standing in front of him. “But what about…?”

She lifted her eyes and met his blue ones. It didn’t look like he thought she was foolish. He seemed to be amazed and worried all at once. “I want you,” she whispered, finding her courage. He drew in a shuddering breath and she went up on her tiptoes to gently brush a kiss across his lips. His fingers gripped her hips a little tighter. “Spike.”

“Buffy,” he said hoarsely. “Kitten, if someone found out…”

“Then we won’t tell,” Buffy said fiercely, sliding her arms around his neck. “Please?” she added softly. “Unless you don’t…” She started to step back but Spike’s strong grip stopped her.

“No,” he said quickly. “No, I do, but…” He stared at her helplessly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “Are you sure?” His thumb swept across her cheek and there was more tenderness in that gesture than a thousand kisses from Riley.

“I’m sure,” she breathed. He bent his head and she started to close her eyes when a loud clattering from the hallway made them jump.

Spike’s hands dropped from her hips and he took a step away from her, rubbing the back of his neck. “My office?” he asked sheepishly. 

“Oh no, I forgot,” Buffy gasped.

Spike’s eyes widened in alarm. “Forgot what?”

“Dr. Giles!”

Spike braced himself against the desk with one hand. “Cripes,” he said. “Right. You go meet with Rupes and then maybe we should…talk.”

Buffy scrunched up her nose. “Rupes?”

Spike smiled a little. “I’ll explain later.”

“I’ll make it quick,” she promised. She scooped up her books and sailed out the door, determined to make this meeting as fast as possible. She dearly hoped the professor wasn’t going to change his mind.

***

“Ah, Miss Summers, come in.” Dr. Giles stood up as she entered, gesturing at the chair by his desk. Buffy sat down, grateful that this one wasn’t too uncomfortable. He must actually like some of his students. “Can I get you anything? Tea?”

Buffy blinked at him in confusion. “No?” She realized how rude that sounded the moment it left her mouth.  “Uh, but thank you,” she added hastily.

“Of course.” Dr. Giles resumed his seat and clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. “So, how are you finding your classes this semester?”

Buffy relaxed a little. “Fine,” she chirped. “And Professor Pratt is doing a great job, in case you were worried.”

She watched Dr. Giles wince slightly as he reached up to fiddle with his glasses, pulling them off and frowning at them before sliding them back on his nose. “Yes, that’s good. I don’t doubt that, considering I had a hand in hiring him.”

“Oh.” Buffy blushed. Of course he had. He was the head of the department, wasn’t he?

“Miss Summers, may I be frank with you?”

Buffy furrowed her brow. “Yes?”

“William, that is, Professor Pratt, is not just a colleague but a family friend.” Buffy’s eyes widened as Dr. Giles continued. “My godson, to be exact, and as such I’m afraid I’m more than aware of his…penchant for flouting the rules. However, I feel I can rely on you to be a bit less…reckless.”

Buffy squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. “Reckless?” she squeaked.

Dr. Giles yanked his glasses off again, this time polishing them with a handkerchief he pulled from his coat pocket before resettling them on his face. “I’m afraid he’s already taken the bull by the horns as it were, even though he’s barely been here a week, and I’d hate for things to become even more complicated.” He leveled a stern gaze on her. “Understand?”

Buffy dropped her eyes and slowly nodded, clutching her books tightly to her chest. “Yes, sir.”

“Excellent.” Dr. Giles sounded slightly happier. “Is there anything else I can do for you while you’re here?”

Buffy lifted her head and met his eyes again. “Actually…”

***

Buffy walked slowly down the hall to Spike’s office, thinking about what Dr. Giles had said. He’d seemed awfully worried, and Buffy wondered if Spike had already gotten into trouble over his syllabus. Willow had said that some of the stuff on it was subversive. She couldn’t bear it if Spike got into even more trouble because of her. She frowned and knocked on his office door. The ‘Dr. Pratt’ sign was still slightly crooked, just like his ties. 

“Come in,” she heard him call.

Buffy took a deep breath, reminding herself that he’d just said he wanted to talk. She opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her. “Spi-”

The rest of his name was lost as she found herself pushed against the wall with Spike’s lips against her own. She moaned, all thoughts of being cautious flying out of her head as his tongue stroked hers and his hands slid into her hair. Her books landed on the floor, thumping loudly. He broke the kiss and cupped her face in his hands. “Buffy,” he said reverently. “Christ, I didn’t think you were going to come.”

“I had to…Dr. Giles,” Buffy said dazedly.

Spike leaned his forehead against hers and brushed his thumb over her cheek. “Everything alright?”

She could hardly think with him so close to her. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Fine.”

Spike heaved a sigh. “God, I thought he might have told you to stay away.”

“No staying away,” Buffy repeated faintly, finally remembering she had hands of her own and she could be putting them to much better use. She placed her palms on Spike’s chest and slid them down, running her fingers over his shirt buttons until she reached the spot she’d been eyeing in class, where it was tucked into his trousers. Her fingers traced the flat buckle of his belt as Spike groaned and pulled her in for another heated kiss. This time Buffy slipped her tongue into his mouth without the need for encouragement. It was thrilling to kiss him like this, like they were blurring the lines of where her body ended and his began. 

One of Spike’s hands left her hair and a moment later she felt it sliding over the curve of her behind. He kissed along the line of her jaw. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He murmured against her ear. “Driving me bloody crazy all morning.”

Buffy giggled. “Um, that was kind of the plan.”

Spike pulled his head back, looking at her in amusement. His other hand slid down to her rear and squeezed. “There’s a plan? Care to share it?”

Buffy blushed. “Just more of, you know, this, and maybe later…” She bit her lip.

Spike’s hands were caressing her behind and she was having a hard time focusing. “Later?” he prompted.

“Um, I thought we could go back up to the cliff?” she said breathlessly, her fingers dancing along the bottom edge of his belt buckle. Spike made a noise low in his throat as she slid her hand down further, feeling the material of his trousers under her fingers and then, finally, that part of him she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. Buffy felt like her heart was beating so quickly it was going to leap out of her chest. The pressure against her fingertips was hard and forgiving at the same time.

Spike closed his eyes, his mouth falling open and his hands gripped her rear tightly. “Buffy,” he groaned.

She wondered if his…the hardness under her fingertips was as beautiful as _Howl_ seemed to believe, and if he’d ever done any of those things she could barely understand. Swimming naked anywhere seemed crazy to her, but—she bit her lip, emboldened by Spike’s reaction to her hesitant exploration—she did like the thought of him without a stitch of clothing on. She wondered if that made her fast after all. She pressed her palm flat against the front of his trousers and felt his thing (cock, the book had named it, though she wouldn’t dare say that aloud) yield, and then insistently push back, almost nuzzling into her hand.

Spike’s hips jerked towards her, startling her out of her thoughts. She lifted her gaze, fascinated by the slight tremor of his lower lip. “Spike,” she whispered, slowly sliding her hand down along the hardness beneath his trousers and then back up again, trying to imagine what it would be like to have that inside of her…she blushed and finally pulled her hand back. “I…” 

“Christ, kitten,” Spike ground out, just before his lips smashed down against hers and she lost herself in the feel of his tongue exploring her mouth. He used one hand to steer her across the floor, the other tangled in her hair and keeping her mouth close enough for him to kiss. He backed her into something and she squeaked against his lips. He urged her up until she was perched on something—on his desk, she realized dimly.

He gently tugged her head back and his lips skimmed down her throat. Her breathing sounded loud and harsh to her ears. His hands gripped her hips and yanked her forward, making her clutch his shoulders for support. He was standing between her legs with only the smallest of spaces separating them, and then he pulled her to the edge of the desk and she gasped, her head falling back and her hands fisting into his shirt. His hardness had settled into the apex of her thighs, just like she’d been imagining last night. The real thing felt even better than she’d thought was possible. The insistent pressure of it was making her lower body throb as he rocked against her center. His arms encircled her as she arched back and let out a high-pitched whimper.

“Buffy,” he gasped, kissing his way up to her mouth again. Her lips felt clumsy as she tried to return his kisses, her mind full of dreams and possibilities and wonder. She hadn’t the faintest idea how this had all happened so quickly. She hadn’t even known she was capable of passion like this; it felt like she could never be close enough to him.

There was a timid knock on the door.

Spike jerked his head back, his chest heaving and his expression panicked. Buffy stared at him in a daze. Slowly, she remembered where they were, and her eyes widened.

The knock came again. “Professor?” a male voice called through the door.

Spike ran a hand through his hair and Buffy automatically reached up to smooth out his rumpled shirt and straighten his tie. He paused a moment, watching her with affection clearly written across his face, before clearing his throat. “One moment,” he called. He took a deep breath before he went over to the door, opening it a crack and nudging a couple of Buffy’s books away from it with his foot.

“Uh, sorry to bother you, professor,” Buffy heard someone say. “It’s just you’re not usually late.”

“Lost track of time,” Spike said brusquely. “Tell everyone I’ll be right there.” He closed the door again and leaned his forehead against it for a moment before turning and walking back to her. Buffy watched him, her fingers curled over the lip of the desk and digging into the wood. Part of her could hardly believe what they’d been doing, and the rest of her was sorely disappointed that they’d been interrupted.

Spike moved to stand in front of her again. He helped Buffy down off his desk. “Tonight?” he asked, his hand gently combing through her hair. She was going to have to find a mirror to fix it or everyone would know what she’d been doing, she was sure of it. “I’ll pick you up?”

Buffy nodded, still feeling a little dizzy. “Um, meet me at that corner behind my house? 9 o’clock?” 

Spike frowned slightly and his fingers tipped her chin back so she was looking up at him. “Wish we didn’t have to hide, kitten,” he said regretfully.

Buffy smiled and went up on her tiptoes to brush a kiss across his lips. “I kind of like having you all to myself.” Spike’s expression softened and he leaned in again, kissing her slowly and sweetly. Buffy sighed against his lips before pulling back. His lower lip snuck out a little. “Class?” she reminded him, stifling a giggle.

Spike heaved a sigh. “Right.” He straightened his shoulders and reached up to smooth back his hair before going to his desk and plucking his hat off it, settling it on his head. He spent a moment frowning at the paperwork on his desk before scooping it all into a pile and tucking it under one arm while Buffy gathered her books. His suit jacket was hanging on a hook behind the door and he grabbed it before pausing once more. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“I’ll be there,” Buffy promised. This time she meant every syllable.


	12. Trouble in Paradise

PRESENT DAY

“Chinese?” Anya asked skeptically. “Xander says…”

Willow groaned, interrupting her. “For the millionth time, he’s asleep.” She gestured at the accumulated number of sleeping bodies in the living room. “He doesn’t get a vote.” Xander was sprawled out on the rug, snoring steadily next to Riley. Giles had slumped forward and was listing slightly away from the chair Spike and Buffy were curled up in, like even in sleep he was appalled by the fact that the Slayer and vampire were so comfortable together.

A tiny frown crossed Willow’s face before she shook her head and continued her argument with Anya. They’d been at it for several minutes, but even after Willow had listed at least five alternatives to pizza Anya had refused to budge.

“We always have pizza. Can’t we choose something different for once?” Willow asked in exasperation.

“Buffy did, and now everyone’s mad at her all the time,” Anya said staunchly.

Willow’s jaw dropped. “That is…that is not the same!” she sputtered.

Tara sighed and got up from the couch, tossing aside Anya’s bridal magazine that she’d commandeered when the food argument had started.

Anya scrunched up her face. “Seems the same to me.”

“Choosing Chinese food and choosing to date Spike aren’t even in the same universe!”

Tara started going through a pile of delivery menus by the phone.

“You weren’t mad when she dated Riley,” Anya pointed out.

Willow furrowed her brow. “Of course not. He’s human, first of all, and a nice guy!”

Anya shrugged. “I guess. If you ignore all the secret government-funded demon experimentation stuff and the whole vampire suckhouse incident.” She lifted her eyebrows at Willow. “Plus, you know, Buffy didn’t really seem to like him that much, by the end.”

“She did!” Willow insisted, though her voice faltered a little. “And maybe this dream will help her realize there are other guys who could make her happy, too. Besides Spike.”

“Yes, hi,” Tara said into the phone. “I’d like to place an order for delivery?” There was a brief pause. “Can I get tofu instead of beef in the Massaman curry?”

***

Buffy tipped her face up towards the sun and let out a contented sigh, leaning back against the grass. There were a few other students scattered about, enjoying the apparently unending number of perfect days they’d been having lately.

“Buffy!” a familiar voice exclaimed nearby.

Buffy opened her eyes and spotted Willow hurrying across the quad towards her. She lifted a hand to wave and grinned at her friend. “Hey, Willow,” she said cheerfully.

Willow dropped cross-legged onto the grass and set her books aside, slightly out of breath. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! You missed the rest of our classes!”

Buffy hunched her shoulders, feeling a little guilty. By the time she’d left Spike’s office and stopped off in the nearest bathroom to fix her hair, her next class had been almost half over. Then she’d realized an old tube of mascara certainly wasn’t going to cut it for her date tonight and had skipped another class in order to make a trip to the drugstore. Thank goodness her father had slipped her a little pocket money before the non-engagement dinner debacle. She hadn’t seen him the rest of the weekend.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Buffy said contritely.

Willow sighed. “It’s fine, you know you can borrow my notes, but I was worried! What is going on with you?”

“Nothing, I promise, everything’s fine,” Buffy assured her.

“But-” Willow frowned at her, puzzled. “Okay, maybe you should just start at the beginning. What happened after you totally skipped out on a chocolate malt to go with…” Willow glanced around and lowered her voice. “With Professor Pratt?”

Buffy bit her lip to keep from smiling too wide, knowing it would give her away. “He just wanted directions to the beach, that’s all.”

Willow’s eyes narrowed. “Uh huh,” she said skeptically. “And you couldn’t just, I don’t know, write them down? Buffy, I know you’ve got some…some crush on him or whatever, but you have to be careful. People are going to talk.”

Buffy blushed. She was dying to tell Willow that it wasn’t just a crush, that the professor truly liked her back, but Dr. Giles’ warning about getting Spike into trouble was too fresh in her mind. “I know. I guess I wasn’t thinking.” Buffy cast her eyes down and plucked a couple of blades of grass. It was still as green as it’d been at the beginning of the semester. “But it was nice. We…talked.”

Willow furrowed her brow. “About what, class?”

Buffy shrugged. “A little, but mostly about life and stuff.” She smiled tentatively at her friend. “You know, even though he’s a professor, he’s still a person.”

“Of course I know that!” Willow looked insulted for a moment before doubt crept across her features. “I guess it’s just hard for me to imagine talking to a teacher like I do with you or Xander or...anyone.”

“Well, I did. He’s very easy to talk to. He helped me figure some stuff out, actually.”

Willow’s brow furrowed. “Like, Riley kind of stuff? Seriously, Buffy, what happened with that? One minute you can’t wait to be Mrs. Riley Finn, and next you’re saying you guys aren’t even going steady anymore? Did you just wake up yesterday and change your mind?”

Buffy deflated a little. She was positive that she and Riley were through, but she didn’t know if he’d realized that yet. Sure, he’d been mad at her, and he’d left without saying goodbye, but they hadn’t actually called it quits. Not officially. She really wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. She’d gotten so used to letting Riley take the lead in everything: where they went, what they ate, and even what they talked about, that it was going to feel very weird for her to start such an important conversation herself. But after the way the professor had kissed her, and how she’d touched him—Buffy felt a shiver work its way up her spine—she’d never be able to go back to being Riley’s girl.

“No, I mean, it was a little more complicated than that,” Buffy finally replied. “We had dinner with Riley’s folks and mine on Saturday, and I just…I just noticed some things.”

Willow blinked at her. “About Riley? After four years?”

Buffy wrinkled her nose. “I thought you’d be happy about me not marrying him! You’ve only been trying to talk me out of it for the last forever.”

“I was not! I mean, I wanted you to be really sure about getting married, but I didn’t…I guess I’m just surprised.” Willow looked contrite. “I thought you were excited about, you know, the whole cake and flowers thing.”

“Well,” Buffy said thoughtfully. “I guess I was, but then some stuff kind of came up and made me realize I don’t think it should be Riley standing at the end of the aisle.”

“What kind of stuff?” Willow asked suspiciously. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with the professor, would it? Because Buffy, I don’t think-”

Buffy shifted so she was sitting cross-legged across from her friend and clasped her hands, hoping she looked a lot more innocent that she felt just then. Willow was too perceptive sometimes. “Uh, I mean, stuff like what you’ve been saying.”

That seemed to be enough of a distraction. “Really?” Willow sounded pleased.

“Yeah,” Buffy relaxed slightly. “When he proposed, I asked Riley about some things, you know, like finishing school and maybe traveling and he…” Buffy frowned. It still hurt to remember how easily he’d dismissed her, even though he claimed to love her enough to marry her. She wondered why she’d never noticed that before. “He just didn’t listen. He didn’t even want to think about it or anything, even though I asked him to. So I turned him down.”

“Oh, Buffy,” Willow said sympathetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“It’s not your fault.” Buffy smiled a little. “I guess he wasn’t the right person for me after all.” Her smile got a little bigger and her melancholy lifted as she pictured the professor’s awed face this morning when she’d said she wanted him. Riley had never looked at her like that. “Do you think,” Buffy mused, “we’ll just know when we do find the right person, even if it turns out to be kind of surprising?”

A blush crept across Willow’s cheeks, reminding Buffy that she still hadn’t met Willow’s mystery crush. Her friend ducked her head and poked at the grass. “I think we will,” Willow answered. “Even if it’s really surprising.”

***

Buffy bounced through the front door of her house, happily humming to herself and swinging the drugstore bag in one hand. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so excited for a date. All she had to do was get her new makeup up to her room before her mother—

“Buffy, is that you?” Joyce called from the direction of the living room. Buffy hastily started up the stairs.

“Yes, Mom! I’ll be down in a minute!”

“Buffy!” Joyce’s voice was getting closer and Buffy barely made it the top, shoving the bag behind her back when her mother appeared at the bottom of the staircase. “Young lady, we have a visitor. Please come down and…” Joyce trailed off, a crease appearing between her brows. “Is that what you wore to school today?” Her tone was scandalized, like Buffy had dared to wear a skirt as short as the carhop girls sported instead of just the tightest black pedal-pushers she owned.

Buffy sighed. “I’ll be down in a minute.” Joyce glanced towards the living room, her frown deepening, before starting up the stairs herself. “Mom?”

Joyce had the sort of determined look on her face that Buffy knew better than to argue with, so she beat a hasty retreat, shoving the drugstore bag under her bed and dropping her books on her dresser just as her mom came into her bedroom. Joyce’s frown had been replaced by a steely gaze that swept Buffy from her head to her toes. “I don’t know who’s putting these ideas in your head, Buffy Anne,” her mother said, “but it stops now.” Joyce flung open Buffy’s closet door and rifled through Buffy’s collection of colorful skirts.

Buffy froze, her eyes darting towards her nightstand and the hidden copy of _Howl_. “What ideas?” Buffy asked cautiously.

Joyce turned to her, exasperated. She was clutching a pink gingham dress that Buffy hadn’t worn since high school. “Riley said something about New York?” she replied. “Where do you even come up with these outlandish things? Is that why you’re dressed like that? Now, put this on.” She shoved the pink dress at Buffy. “And fix your hair before you come down.”

“Riley’s downstairs?” Buffy asked in confusion.

Joyce nodded distractedly, pulling out a yellow and white striped skirt and contemplating it for a moment before putting it back. “He’s been waiting for you to get home. Now, you two are going to make up and put this whole silly argument behind you, Buffy. Honestly, New York?” Joyce shook her head and moved over to Buffy’s dresser, opening the top drawer and pulling out a few hair ribbons.

“I just-” Buffy started.

“Your father’s on another business trip, so we won’t ever have to tell him about all this nonsense. He’s worked very hard for this family, and I won’t have you disappointing him by tossing away your future.” Joyce put her hands on her hips and frowned at the drawer. “Where’s your white ribbon?” She turned and surveyed the room. “He probably could have made partner by now if we’d stayed in the city, but we agreed Sunnydale was the perfect place for you to finish out your school years.”

“But…” Buffy began as Joyce made a beeline for Buffy’s bedside table and the hidden book. Buffy’s heart leapt into her throat. “Mom!” Joyce stopped in her tracks. “Um, will you tell Riley I’ll be down in a minute?”

Joyce looked relieved. “Of course.” She paused for a moment. “You know,” she continued in a much softer tone, “we just want what’s best for you, honey. Riley’s a good man.”

Buffy’s shoulders tensed. “I know,” she whispered, staring at her pink flowered bedspread and the pink dress her mother had picked for her.  

“I’ll go tell him.” Joyce turned on her heel, her dress swirling around her legs as she sailed out the door of Buffy’s bedroom and closed it behind her.

Buffy slowly moved to stand by the end of the bed and picked up the dress her mother had laid out. She held it up in front of her in the mirror and stared at her reflection. Her own wide eyes stared back at her, her cheeks nearly devoid of color. How could she explain that she’d come to the realization that Riley just wasn’t the man for her? For that matter, how was she going to tell Riley? She certainly couldn’t say that she’d been kissing someone else, because her mother would definitely hear about that and Buffy would be in a world of trouble.

She wished things were as simple as they’d seemed to be when she’d woken up this morning. All she wanted was to be happy, but no matter what she did someone was disappointed in her. Buffy made a face in the mirror and dropped the dress she was holding to the floor. One thing she knew for sure was that she wasn’t in high school anymore. She couldn’t pretend she was still the girl she’d been back then, who hadn’t known what it felt like to lose herself in a kiss and had never found the courage to go after what she wanted.  

Buffy opened her bedroom door and walked out, her back straight and stiff as she descended the stairs and went into the living room.

“Here she is!” Joyce said gaily, her smile only faltering for a moment as she took in Buffy’s unchanged outfit. Joyce stood up from the couch. “I’ll just leave you two to talk.” She shot Buffy a narrow-eyed glance that promised another lecture later but continued into the kitchen. A moment later Buffy could hear pots and pans clanging as her mother started preparing dinner.

Riley was skulking over by the fireplace with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his letterman jacket. “Buffy,” he finally said, his tone curt.

Buffy clasped her hands in front of her to keep them from trembling. “Riley,” she replied, proud that her voice was steady.

Riley’s eyes swept down her body, but his gaze left her cold. There was nothing in his eyes like the appreciation Spike had showed her. Riley’s frown deepened. “I really wish you’d stop hanging around with Willow so much.”

Buffy refrained from stamping her foot like a petulant child and took a deep breath instead. “She has nothing to do with this.”

Riley snorted and finally took his hands out of his pockets. Buffy caught sight of the ring box he had clenched in his fist and her heart constricted. She couldn’t. Not now. Why was he making things so difficult? “Yeah, sure. Look.” Riley sighed. “I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have left it like that. It’s just…you really mixed me up when you starting talking about all that mumbo jumbo.”

Buffy bristled. “It’s not mumbo jumbo, Riley. It’s stuff that’s important to me!”

Riley lifted his eyebrows in surprised. “I thought we were important too, babe, you and me?”

Buffy wasn’t sure what to say. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “We are. I mean, we were.”

“Were?” Riley repeated in disbelief. “What the heck is that supposed to mean? Last week you were the same sweet girl I’ve always known, but now, all of the sudden…” His voice trailed off and his eyes narrowed. “It’s him isn’t it?”

Buffy’s heart skipped a beat. “Who?” she asked weakly, trying not let her panic show on her face. How could Riley have found out about her and Spike so quickly?

“That new professor who’s putting ideas in your head,” Riley spat. “Did you think I wouldn’t hear about you driving off with him the other day? How do you think that makes me look? My girl, riding around with some old nerd who has no appreciation for anything but his boring books!”

“But…” Buffy said, simultaneously relieved and disappointed. It would have been much easier to have Riley break things off because she’s been with someone else, but of course Riley didn’t know about any of the kissing. Someone he knew must have seen her leave with the professor from the drive-in last weekend. “He just needed directions to the beach.”

“It was bad enough to hear that he’d been at the game, pretending to cheer us on when he probably doesn’t know the difference between a first down and an interception, but then I heard you were being nice to him there, too! Do you have any idea what a jerk that guy is?” Riley’s fist around the ring box was trembling.

“He hasn’t been a jerk to me,” Buffy said, wrapping her arms around her middle.

Riley made a dismissive noise. “Well, he definitely doesn’t know a darn thing about football, or how important the team is. It doesn’t matter, though, they won’t let him interfere right before the playoffs.”

“Interfere?” Buffy asked, bewildered. “With what?”

“Nothing, nevermind.” Riley shook his head. “That’s not why I’m here.” He held out the box. “Let’s put this whole crazy business behind us, babe, what do you say?”

Buffy jaw dropped. “I don’t…what?”

Riley’s brow furrowed. “Buffy, babe, come on, put on the ring. We can talk about all that stuff later, but right now I need to focus on more important things.”

Buffy felt like the last of the blindfolds were being stripped from her eyes as she stared at the man who was supposed to have been her husband. “Isn’t our marriage important?” she asked quietly. She could feel tears threatening, but she refused to let them fall. She’d known before she came downstairs that she couldn’t marry Riley, but hearing him speak like this was still painful. She might never have known that it could be different if she hadn’t met the professor. It was a terrifying prospect.

“Of course,” Riley said impatiently. “But like I said-”

“Why?” Buffy interrupted.

“What?” Riley looked confused.

“Why do you want to marry me?”

Riley’s confusion seemed to deepen. “Because, babe, we’ve been planning it since I graduated from high school, remember?”

“But why?” Buffy persisted.

“Because we’re good together, babe.” He sounded like he was humoring her now.

“Are we?” Buffy asked earnestly. “Maybe we were in high school, Riley, but things have changed. We’ve changed. I just…” She bit her lip worriedly. “I don’t think we should get married,” she said in a rush.

Riley looked at her like she’d announced she was running off to join the circus. “Because of New York?” he asked in disbelief.

“No, because-” Buffy took a breath. “Because I don’t think we’d be happy, Riley.”

Riley’s expression darkened and he shoved the ring box back in his pocket. Buffy felt herself relax when it disappeared. “I’m not going to let you yank me around like this forever, you know,” he said harshly. “I’ve got to get to practice. I’ll see you later.”

“I’m not…” Riley headed out of the living room, brushing past her and slamming the front door behind him as he left. “Yanking you around,” Buffy finished softly. “We’re through.”

An answering bang from the direction of the kitchen made her wince. It sounded like her mother may have gotten an inkling of how the conversation had gone. Buffy squared her shoulders and headed in to face the music.

***

Buffy listened intently, but the only thing she could hear through her closed bedroom door was the muffled sound of the television downstairs. She shifted nervously on her bed and glanced at the clock. It was a quarter to nine. If she was going to meet Spike, she’d better leave soon.

She got up and went over to her mirror again, smoothing down the front of her dress. It was the red one she’d worn to the football game, with the daring neckline that had barely garnered a second glance from Riley.

Spike, however, had definitely been enthralled by it, though she hadn’t realized quite how much at the time. She smiled at her reflection, checking to make sure there wasn’t any red lipstick on her teeth, and then pulled the front of her dress down a smidge lower. She’d left her hair down and curled back away from her face like she’d seen in the magazines.

This was it. From here on there would be no making up with Riley and moving into a small house across the street after they got married, like she’d been envisioning for the last couple of years. Like her mother and father expected of her. If she snuck out tonight she could kiss that predictable future goodbye, and who knew where her life would lead her. Spike made her feel like no one else ever had, but he was older, smarter, and certainly more experienced than she was. There was no telling when he’d realize she was just a silly schoolgirl and not one of the sophisticated women he no doubt preferred, so she’d just have to treasure every moment they had together.

Buffy plucked her black sweater off the bed and shrugged into it before rummaging through her closet for a pair of black heels she’d been saving for after her engagement. Her hands closed around the bottle of champagne she’d commandeered yesterday and she tugged it from its hiding place, too. It wasn’t chilled anymore, and she wondered if that was good or bad. She hoped Spike wouldn’t mind either way.

She took a deep breath and glanced at the clock again. Ten minutes to nine. Her mother would be deeply engrossed in the end of her show, and as long as Buffy was quiet she should be able to slip out.

With her shoes in one hand and the champagne in the other, she carefully slipped out of her bedroom and tiptoed down the hallway towards the stairs. The trip down the steps was the slowest and most excruciating of Buffy’s life. Every noise from the living room made her jump, and she could hardly believe it when she managed, somehow, to make it to the back door. She closed it behind her with the barest of clicks and hurried across the back porch, her heart pounding.

She only paused a moment in the darkness of the backyard to slip on her shoes. Clasping the bottle of champagne to her chest, Buffy nervously skirted around the overgrown oleander and let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding when she saw the professor’s car waiting for her, its engine ticking softly as it cooled.

The driver’s door opened and Spike’s head appeared, sans hat. She could see his fedora resting on the dashboard inside. She stopped for a moment as he climbed out. Had he already changed his mind? Was he just waiting here to tell her this was all a terrible mistake? Her heart plummeted straight into her new shoes.

Spike rounded the front of the car with long strides, his face shadowed in the darkness. He was wearing the same kinds of clothes he’d had on over the weekend, those greaser-style jeans and a dark colored, short-sleeved button up shirt. “Hey,” he said, sounding a little surprised. “You came.” Buffy nodded cautiously and took another step towards him. He turned and tugged on the passenger door handle, opening it wide. “Shall we?”

Buffy felt a wide smile break out across her face at the same time an anticipatory shiver wracked her whole body. She moved towards the open car door only to be stopped by a gentle hand on her hip. Buffy looked up into Spike’s face as he gazed down at her, his eyes dropping to her neckline just like she remembered from before. “Love the dress, kitten.”  

Buffy blushed. “Yeah?”

Spike grinned before leaning in and kissing her, softly at first, but then deeper, more urgent. The hand on her hip slid around to the small of her back, pulling her closer and making her skirt rustle as it brushed against his legs. Slowly, he drew back from her again. “Yeah,” Spike said softly. “You look gorgeous. Ready to go?” Buffy realized she was clutching the front of his shirt with her free hand and sheepishly released it so she could slide into the car. He closed the door behind her and she watched him round the car once more to climb into the driver’s seat.

Her mother might be in for a terrible disappointment, but Buffy was certain that she’d made the right decision.

She set the champagne bottle down by her feet as Spike started the car and they cruised out of her neighborhood. He fiddled with the radio for a moment, moving the needle along the entirely wrong side of the dial until Buffy laughed and swatted his hand away, scooting closer to the middle of the bench seat so she could see the radio face. She found a favorite song, carefully tuning it in until it had hardly any static at all, and felt Spike’s hand graze her shoulder. When she settled back, he tugged her until she was tucked up against his side.

Buffy gazed out the front windshield at the stars and rested her head against his shoulder, drawing in a deep breath and feeling giddy at the realization that this was real. She was on a date with the professor, and she’d even remembered to bring the champagne.


	13. Everyday

Everything was perfect.

The stars were shining bright, the moon was half-full and hanging picturesquely over the ocean, and the view from top of their cliff was beautiful, just like the first time she’d kissed him here. The professor had even surprised her with an impromptu picnic. The sound of the ocean below them was a distant, muted roar that reminded her of the crowd at the football game. That night seemed like weeks ago, instead of just a few days. It was like her whole life had been leading her to this moment.

“Another, uh, whatever these are?” Spike offered her a container of assorted puffs.

Buffy shook her head, smiling slightly. “Thank you.” She watched him poke at one of the other containers he’d brought, pilfered from the collection of casseroles the ladies of the neighborhood had greeted him with when he’d moved in.

She wondered if any of them had noticed how handsome the new professor was and her smile wavered. Except she supposed none of them got to call him Spike, or had his copy of _Howl_ hidden in their nightstands. Buffy perked up, feeling better, even if she was certain she’d never make a perfect shrimp puff.

“I, um, read your book,” she told him, blushing and plucking at the blanket under her hands. It was a coarse, green tartan weave that looked like it had been around for a long while.

Spike immediately set aside the puffs, looking at her eagerly. “Yeah? Bit different, I know, but it just feels so real, like he’s in the room speaking right in your ear. Not at all like the old stuff. But of course, since it’s new, academics dismiss it.”

Buffy leaned forward a bit as he spoke, loving the way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he loved. She envied that fire, the way it seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him. She wished there was something like that inside of her. “It felt very…” She paused, searching for a way to describe the book. “Rushed, or maybe breathless, like the words were coming almost too fast for him to write.”

Spike’s smile was wide and beautiful. “Like a strong emotion, yeah? Roaring in and taking over, making you feel like you’re just along for the ride?”

Buffy found herself nodding along. “Yes! Like how I feel when I-” She bit back the end of her sentence, not sure she should tell him how her feelings seemed to grow stronger every moment they were together, how he’d seeped into all the cracks she hadn’t known were inside of her and made everything around her seem brand new.

“To recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame,” Spike recited, his voice a low murmur. “Rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm and thought in his naked and endless head.”

Buffy felt an electric tingle zip down her spine and pool between her legs as he spoke.

He’d propped himself up on his side with an elbow and was watching her with a look on his face that made Buffy’s belly flip over. It was so easy to be with him, even when she wasn’t kissing him. She wondered if this was what love actually felt like, instead of the sense of duty and obedience she’d always thought it was.

Everything was perfect, so why was she so nervous?

All she’d wanted since the moment she’d first caught sight of him was to be here with him just like this. Except maybe she hadn’t really thought what would happen after that moment. The butterflies in her stomach had been fluttering frantically all night, and she couldn’t shake her worry that she’d somehow end up disappointing him. She’d been sneaking peeks at her mother’s magazines for months, dreaming of her wedding night, but the details had always been frustratingly vague. What if she did something wrong?

Spike reached out and brushed a stray curl away from Buffy’s face. “Should I open the champagne?” His voice was a deep rumble that made her mouth go dry. His eyes were dark in the moonlight, but she knew by heart the exact shade of blue they were.

“Yes,” she said, feeling the sort of breathless anticipation she used to get just before debuting a new cheer.

He picked up the bottle with one hand and reached out to wrap his other arm around her waist, tugging her flush against his side. Buffy took a breath, inhaling the delicious scent of him, and let her hand land on his thigh, her fingers coming to rest on the inside seam of his jeans. The bottle thumped to the ground and he made no move to pick it up again. When she peeked up at him, he seemed to be staring down the front of her dress.

“Spike?”

He blinked and looked up at her face. “Yeah, kitten?”

“The champagne?” she prompted.

He shoved the bottle away. “We’ll try it in a minute,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse, and then his lips were on hers. Buffy grasped the front of his shirt to keep from falling over as his tongue explored her mouth, stroking against her tongue and making her insides turn to mush. She loved that his kisses were nothing like the dry, passionless exchanges she’d had before. Instead, it felt like he was trying to memorize every nuance of her flavor.

The arm around her waist tightened and she felt herself tipping backwards. Buffy gasped and broke the kiss as Spike laid her down on the blanket, pressing kisses to her jaw and throat. His other hand was sliding up her leg and her skirts were rustling noisily as he moved over her to kiss her again. Buffy grasped the front of his shirt and opened her mouth to him, pulling him closer. She could kiss him as often as she wanted to now, Buffy realized giddily.

Her hands trembled as she smoothed them over his back. His hand moved even higher up her bare leg, far past her knee. His body was pressed against hers, but all the layers of her skirts were keeping her from feeling his hardness. Buffy let out a distressed noise and Spike pulled back. His chest was heaving and few of his curls had escaped whatever he’d used to slick them back, hanging over his forehead. His brow was furrowed. “Alright?”

Buffy tried to catch her breath. “I can’t…” She bit her lip, knowing she was blushing. “I want to feel you,” she whispered, her gaze darting down his body and back up again. Spike looked momentarily gobsmacked, and then pulled her up to kiss her fervently as she let out a surprised squeak. She was practically in his lap, her skirts pushed up between them. Spike’s lips moved down her throat as he fumbled with something at the back of her dress and Buffy clutched his collar, feeling overwhelmed in the best way possible. Her shaking fingers managed to undo one of the buttons on his shirt when she felt her dress loosen and realized he was unzipping it.

Buffy’s fingers went numb and a shiver wracked her entire body as Spike’s mouth slowly moved downward, kissing along the tops of her breasts and then down into the valley between them. She felt his tongue flick out to taste her skin and gasped, the sound loud in the night air. No one had ever touched her like this, made her feel so much it was almost overwhelming. Her hands were fisted into Spike’s shirt and she tried to get her brain to work while her body sat perfectly still, paralyzed with indecision.

Spike seemed to notice that she’d stopped moving and pulled back with a slight frown on his face. “Kitten?”

Buffy tried to take a deep breath, feeling the butterflies in her stomach go crazy as Spike’s eyes immediately dropped to where her dress had slipped down far enough to expose her bra. “I’m sorry,” she managed. Her whole body felt overheated and she wanted him to go back to touching her. “Um, I just…I’ve never…” She felt her face flush and immediately wanted to take back her words when Spike’s eyes widened in astonishment. He must think she was so silly and old-fashioned.

“You never..?” Spike’s hands slipped down to her hips as he gazed at her in confusion. “At all?”

Buffy lowered her eyes to his still mostly-buttoned shirt and noticed he was wearing an undershirt as well. She stifled her sigh of disappointment. She was never going to get to see more of him at this rate. “Not really,” she said absently, reaching out to undo another button, and then another. “I guess I’ve just never felt…” She glanced up at him shyly. “Like you make me feel.” She undid another button. “It’s different, with you.”

Spike cleared his throat and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close but still not getting back to the kissing. Buffy glanced up worriedly but he didn’t look upset, or angry, or even annoyed. Instead he looked…kind of happy. “So you never, ah, did anything like this with your ex?”

Buffy undid another button on Spike’s shirt. “No,” she admitted quietly. “Nothing like this.” She paused, and then added hesitantly, “Is that okay?”

Spike’s arms squeezed her so tightly that she let out a surprised laugh. “Oh, kitten,” he said, his voice husky. “That’s very okay. I just didn’t expect it, is all. I would have…” He glanced around at the scattered containers of food and the rumpled blanket as Buffy got the last button of his shirt undone, smiling triumphantly to herself. She looked up to find him staring down at her in adoration. It made her heart swell in her chest. “I wish I could take you home and show you exactly how okay that is.”

Buffy furrowed her brow. “But…not here?”

Spike leaned his forehead against hers. “You deserve a proper bed, Buffy, and to make a proper night of it. Not like this, when I can’t wake up next to you afterwards.”

Buffy’s shoulders slumped and she eyed his exposed undershirt sadly. “Oh.”

Spike’s grip around her waist loosened and she felt him take her chin in one hand, directing her gaze upward again. When she met his eyes, his crooked smile took on a new quality that made her quiver. “Doesn’t mean the night’s over, kitten.”

Buffy straightened up a little. “No?” she asked hopefully. She felt the hand still on her back gently slide beneath the open zipper of her dress, caressing her bare skin.

“Definitely not,” Spike replied. “After all, you haven’t had any champagne yet.” His hands disappeared from her body and Buffy made a noise of protest but he was already leaning away from her and reaching for the bottle. She clutched the front of her dress so it wouldn’t creep down any further and reluctantly slid from his lap. Spike was back a moment later, handing her two mismatched mugs and brushing a kiss across her cheek. Buffy lifted a mug that read ‘Kiss the Librarian’ and raised her eyebrows at Spike.

He laughed. “Borrowed it from Rupes.”

“You’re staying with the Dean?” Buffy asked in surprise.

Spike caught his tongue between his teeth as he pushed at the cork in bottle with his thumbs. “He’s letting me stay with him until I get on my feet. Burned all my bridges back home, and he’s pretty much the only family I’ve got left.” He shot her a regretful look. “You sure you’re interested in taking on a pathetic sot like me?” The top popped out of the bottle and shot across the blanket, making Buffy jump.

She held out the two mugs to Spike and he filled them, his eyes downcast. Buffy handed him one mug, and stopped him before he could take a drink, her hand on his arm. His white undershirt was bright in the moonlight. “To new beginnings,” she said softly. Spike’s expression softened, and he took a sip of champagne, watching her over the rim of his mug as she cautiously sipped her own drink. It was fizzier than she expected, and sweeter. She couldn’t decide if she liked it or not. She took another sip. She did like how the bubbles popped on her tongue.

“I declared English as my major,” she blurted out suddenly.

Spike looked at her in surprise. “Yeah?”

Buffy smiled shyly. “Yeah. When I talked to Dr. Giles earlier.”

The professor lifted one eyebrow. “Something in particular bring about this decision?”

“Well,” Buffy said thoughtfully. “He did try and tell me I shouldn’t take any more of your classes. Ever.”

Spike choked on his champagne. Buffy leaned towards him, concerned, but had to stop and pull her dress up as Spike managed to recover himself. She didn’t fail to notice he’d been distracted by the flash of her bra even while he was trying to clear his lungs of champagne. “He’s always been sharp, I’ll give him that,” Spike finally said.

Buffy frowned. “What if he-”

Spike waved a hand. “Not to worry, kitten. I’m sure I’m in for a long lecture, but he’s not one to gossip.” 

“So,” Buffy said cautiously. “You still want to…be with me?”

Spike took another drink of his champagne, his eyes boring into hers over the rim of the mug. “Every moment of every day,” he said, his voice low as he set his mug aside and pulled hers from her suddenly nerveless fingers. She stared at him, feeling her dress slip even lower. He moved towards her, settling his hands on her knees and pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

Buffy returned it, elation and anxiety warring in her mind. He pulled back from her and she narrowed her eyes, realizing he wasn’t going to pick back up where they’d left off. One of the nearby containers caught her eye, its lid ajar. She smiled politely and met Spike’s gaze as he struggled to drag it up from her cleavage. “We haven’t had dessert,” she said, hoping she sounded a little disappointed. 

Spike looked startled as he glanced around then pulled the container Buffy’d seen closer to her. It was filled with something gooey and chocolately and perfect for her purposes. “No, we haven’t,” he said, and she hoped she wasn’t imagining that note of disappointment in his voice. “I think there’re some spoons around her somewhere…”

“This is fine,” Buffy said with a smile, pushing the lid off and using two fingers to scoop up some of the soft chocolate.

Spike didn’t seem to be able to tear his eyes from her hand. “Uh-”

She watched the professor’s eyes widen at her slow smile. Buffy lifted her hand towards her mouth, only to redirect it to her chest as the last second. She met Spike’s eyes steadily as she wiped the chocolate across the tops of her breasts. “Oops,” she said cheerfully, before sticking her fingers into her mouth and leisurely sucking the chocolate off of them. She smiled at him around her fingers before pulling them out with a happy moan.

The professor’s mouth was hanging open. “You…” His eyes narrowed and he let out something that sounded like a growl as he launched himself at her, making Buffy shriek in surprise. She toppled back against the blanket as he pinned her down with his body and his lips started skating over her chest. Buffy let out a gasp as his tongue slipped down between her breasts to clean up the mess she’d made, and she fisted a hand into the back of his shirt. “Bloody gorgeous,” he murmured as his tongue swiped across the top of one breast. “Who the hell could possibly resist you? Must have been out of his damn mind.”

Buffy dimly realized he was talking about Riley and slid a hand into his hair, tugging until Spike lifted his head. She was gratified to see his eyes had glazed over. “Please, Spike,” she whispered, feeling bolder by the moment. “I want to…I need…”

He groaned and dropped his head back down to her breasts, his mouth seeking out the last of the chocolate she’d smeared there. She tugged impatiently on his shirt and he growled against her bare skin before sitting up. He was straddling her hips, his chest heaving and his hair in disarray from her fingers. He shrugged off his button down, staring down at her with half-lidded eyes. Buffy watched, not wanting to miss a moment, her fingers skimming along the bottom of his undershirt where it was tucked into his jeans. “And this one?” she asked breathlessly.

Spike caught her fingers as she traced the edges of his belt buckle and brought them up to his lips, kissing the tips of them. “Going to be the death of me,” he said in a low growl. Buffy shivered in anticipation as he dropped her hand, then tugged his shirt up and yanked it over his head, leaving his chest bare in the moonlight.

Buffy’s breath caught in her throat. She traced the dips and ridges of his torso with her fingers, spellbound as his stomach muscles clenched and relaxed at her trembling touch. He leaned forward again, and her hands slid up his bare chest. She marveled at how wonderful he felt under her hands, and then he was kissing her again, his lips pressed against hers and his tongue demanding as it swept through her mouth. She clutched his shoulders and arched up against him, loving the feel of his skin pressed against hers. “More,” she gasped. “Please.”

Spike began to kiss his way down her throat, one of his hands working its way under her and slipping into the back of her dress. She could feel him fumbling with her bra, and then suddenly it, too, was loose. Buffy let out a gasp as he nosed his way down between her breasts, pushing her bra aside and exposing her breasts. Her face flushed and her entire body felt much too warm. “I-” she started to say just as Spike’s lips closed around one of her nipples and sucked hard, making her arch up against his mouth and let out a cry. One of her hands flew up to tangle in his hair as he moaned against her breast.

The stars were wheeling through the sky overhead, but Buffy couldn’t keep her eyes open long enough to watch them. Everything Spike was doing to her body felt so good she couldn’t imagine why she’d been putting this off for so long. His hand was kneading her other breast, his long fingers manipulating her peaked nipple and sending delicious sensations shooting down to her core.

Her skirts were still in the way, and she mourned not being able to feel his hardness pressed against her hip, but then she remembered she could touch him, too. She skimmed a hand along his bare back, loving the feel of his smooth skin, down to his waistband. She paused a moment before sliding her hand down even further, letting her palm come to rest against his backside before she gave it an experimental squeeze. Spike groaned and released her nipple, lifting his head to meet her eyes. “Alright?” he asked hoarsely.

Buffy nodded, unable to find her voice before Spike’s mouth found hers again, kissing away any words she might have managed. He rolled them slightly so they were on their sides, and her breasts were pressed against his bare chest. It felt amazing to be with him this way, and far more intimate than anything she’d ever done before.

Spike had one arm curled around her, holding her close, his hand tucked in under her dress and pressed flat against her spine. His other hand was slowly sliding up her leg, pushing her skirt up with it. When he reached her hip his fingers danced around the edge of her panties and then his hand was cupping her rear, pulling her closer. Buffy sighed against his mouth and trailed her fingers down his stomach until she reached his belt buckle again, then she slid her hand down further until she found what she’d been seeking. Spike growled against her mouth as she slowly trailed her fingers down the evidence of his arousal, his hardness trapped beneath his jeans.

“Buffy,” Spike groaned in her ear. His fingers hooked into the top of her panties and tugged them down. She lifted her hips up and let them slid down her thighs, thinking he would take them off, but he stopped when they were still above her knees. “Not going to…” Spike kissed her deeply. “Just want to make you feel good, kitten.”

Buffy had no idea what could possibly feel better than what they were already doing, but then Spike’s hand was sliding up her inner thigh and she realized she hadn’t even begun to understand all the things he could make her feel. “Oh!” she let out, startled, as his fingers slipped through the dampness between her legs and gently stroked her there. “What…” she trailed off, gasping, as one of his fingers pushed partway inside of her and she bucked against his hand. “Spike!”

Spike captured her mouth and kissed her slowly and thoroughly as he began to pump his finger in and out of her center, his thumb making circles on that part of herself she’d only ever touched late at night, then she was alone in her room and half-asleep. She could feel something like electricity gathering low in her belly. Spike moaned, his hips jerking, and Buffy realized her hand was still stroking him. She had a sudden, thrilling idea, and reached up to tug at Spike’s belt buckle.

Spike’s hand between her legs began to move faster as she undid his belt and carefully freed his hardness so that it was resting in the palm of her hand. It was firm in her grip, though his skin was soft as velvet. How it was supposed to fit where his finger was now, she had no idea.

He muttered something against her lips that sounded like it might be her name as he began to push a second finger inside of her and then something else was happening to her body. Buffy inhaled sharply as her core contracted around Spike’s fingers and it felt like fireworks began to go off in her belly. She couldn’t breathe for a moment, letting go of him to clutching the blanket beneath her tightly. She let out a sudden cry as her breath came back, and Spike’s fingers gently slipped out of her, his hand trailing along her quivering thighs.

“Buffy,” he said reverently. She tried to catch her breath, feeling a little dizzy. He grasped her hand and tugged it back to hold his hardness. His fingers clamped down around hers so tightly she was afraid she might hurt him as he began to guide her hand up and down. “Just like that,” he gasped.

Buffy bit her lip and tried to concentrate, her body still tingling with the aftereffects of his touch. She wanted him to feel as good as she did in this moment, like every part of her was finally alive. He groaned as she stroked him, her hand gliding up and down and up again.

Spike said her name once more as his hips jerked and his fingers tightened around hers, stopping her movements. A moment later, something warm and sticky was trailing across the back of her hand and he was panting, trying to catch his breath. Buffy felt him release her hand and she tentatively pulled it away as he rolled onto his back. “Hang on, kitten,” he said hoarsely as she started to sit up. He fumbled for his discarded undershirt and picked up her hand again, carefully wiping it clean.

Buffy couldn’t stop stealing glances down at the open front of his jeans, where his…thing was now lying, looking a little less intimidating than it had before. Spike lifted her hand and pressed a kiss in the center of her palm. He stared up at her, a smile flickering across his face. She felt suddenly self-conscious and started to pull up her dress, but his hand stopped her. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes raking down her body.

Buffy blushed as he tugged her down, his arms wrapping around her waist and holding her close. She laid her head on Spike’s bare chest and gazed out over the cliff at the stars while he ran his fingers through her hair.

It was perfect.


	14. Bye Bye Love

PRESENT DAY

“Are there more spring rolls?” Anya asked hopefully, poking though the scattered containers on the coffee table.

“Sorry.” Tara shook her head. “I’ll order extra next time.”

“It’s too bad Xander’s missing this,” Anya sighed, eyeing her snoring boyfriend as he lay sprawled on the floor. “He probably would have ordered too many spring rolls.”

Willow nodded, her mouth full of Thai food. “He so would have,” she agreed a moment later. “Here, try some of this, it’s amazing.” She pushed one of the containers in Anya’s direction.

“How much longer do you think they’ll be sleeping?” Tara asked curiously.

“When it was just Spike and Buffy they slept for hours,” Willow said glumly. “I have no idea how long it’ll take with all these extra people involved.”

“Who do you think’s going to win?” Anya leaned back in her chair, her plate piled high with rice and vegetables. 

Tara furrowed her brow. “I don’t think there’s really anything to win…”

“Riley,” Willow said confidently. “It’s his dream, so I bet he set it up in his favor.”

“But the spell makes the story conform to reality over time,” Tara pointed out. “So Buffy would end up with Spike, like in real life.”

“But that only happened because Riley wasn’t around anymore,” Willow assured her girlfriend. Tara looked doubtful.

 Anya glanced between Tara and Willow. “Well, we could always check.”

Willow lifted her eyebrows. “I think some of us should stay awake to keep an eye on the others.”

Anya made an impatient noise and waved her fork in the air. “No, not that, I mean, we could just do a little comparison, and then we’d know who Buffy’s going to pick.” She smiled brightly.

“Compare what?” Tara asked, sounding confused.

Anya rolled her eyes. “Penises, of course.”

Willow almost spit out her mouthful of food. “What? We are not doing that!” 

Anya’s grin turned shrewd. “So you think Riley’s not going to measure up?”

Tara narrowed her eyes at Anya. “We’re not measuring anyone’s….penis while they’re sleeping.” Her face flushed bright red.

Anya slumped back, pouting. “Well, shoot. What else are we going to do then?”

***

“Buffy!”

Buffy blinked open her eyes blearily, feeling like her eyelids were weighted down. It took her a moment to realize her mother was looming over her.

“Do you realize what time it is?” Joyce asked in distress. A car horn honked in the distance.

Buffy frowned at her mother and struggled to sit up, realizing at the last minute that she was clutching _Howl._ The professor had dropped her off last night just as the stars were starting to dim in anticipation of dawn, kissing her goodnight in a way that made her not want to go home at all. She’d snuck in through the back door and made it to her room, her whole body still tingling from his touch. She hadn’t thought she’d be able to sleep, so she’d pulled _Howl_ from its hiding place and opened to the first page, her fingers tracing over the letters of Spike’s name written there. That was the last thing she remembered.

Joyce let out an exasperated sigh and tugged the covers back. “Did you stay up reading last night? Hop to it, Buffy, you’ll be late for school.”

Buffy immediately felt more awake. She didn’t have a class with the professor today, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t stop by his office to say hello. And kiss him. She felt herself break into a wide smile and she stretched and climbed out of bed. “I’m hopping.” She cautiously set _Howl_ on her nightstand, worried that Joyce might get suspicious if Buffy hid it away. Her mother was already busily rummaging through Buffy’s closet.

Buffy caught sight of the clock on her way to the bathroom and realized she was definitely going to be late for her first class, but at least she wouldn’t miss it entirely. She washed her face and combed her hair, dragging the brush through her curls dreamily as she relived all of her favorite moments from the night before. The way the professor had opened his car door for her, how rapt he’d looked when she’d spoken, the way he’d kissed her breathless, the way he’d touched…

Joyce knocked loudly on the bathroom door, jarring Buffy out of her daydream. “No dawdling, Buffy!”

“I’m coming!” She wasn’t quite sure why her mother was being so persistent this morning, but it was a nice change from the cold silence that had permeated their dinner together last night. Buffy quickly swiped on some mascara and added bit of blusher to her cheeks, hoping it would make her look more awake than she felt. She left her hair down, softly curling to her shoulders, and secured one side back with a couple of bobby pins. 

When she emerged from the bathroom she found that Joyce had laid out her yellow striped skirt and a white blouse. Buffy sighed, but decided she’d let her mother have her way this time and dressed quickly. She didn’t bother buttoning up her shirt all the way though, and found a colorful scarf to tie around her throat, letting the ends trail down into her cleavage in a way that she knew Spike would appreciate.

The car horn sounded again from somewhere outside and Buffy felt a teensy bit sorry for whoever they were waiting for, since apparently their manners weren’t anything like the professor’s. She took one last glance in the mirror before heading for the stairs, hurrying down to where her mother was hovering by the door with Buffy’s books in her arms. “Here you are, dear,” Joyce said, handing over Buffy’s school things and opening the front door. “Come along, you don’t want to be even later.”

Buffy flushed a little when she saw _Howl_ perched on the top of her stack of books. Her mother must have thought it was for one of her assignments. She blinked in the bright morning sunlight and started to walk down the porch steps when she froze, her eyes widening. “What…”

Joyce waved enthusiastically at Riley, whose big blue car was idling at the curb in front of her house, and gave Buffy a gentle shove in that direction. “Now you two go make up, and make sure and thank him for waiting for you this morning.”

Buffy stumbled down the remaining steps and walked slowly towards Riley’s car. He saw her approaching and made an impatient motion with one hand. She glanced back at her mother, who was watching them hopefully. The morning sun glinted off the house’s perfectly clean front windows behind her. Buffy clutched her books tightly against her chest as she reached Riley’s car, hesitating by the passenger door.

“Come on,” Riley said, sounding exasperated. “We’re already late as it is.”

Buffy looked back toward her mother once last time, her heart laden with guilt, before she pulled open the heavy door and climbed inside. Tonight she was going to have to explain that things between her and Riley were definitely over. The drive was short; she could endure it one last time.

Riley hardly waited for her to close her door before he was pulling away from the curb, the big car’s engine revving loudly. “This is getting ridiculous, Buffy,” he huffed.

Buffy blinked at him, taken aback. “What is?”

He glanced her way, a frown on his face. “Whatever this game is you’re playing at. Are you mad about last weekend? I’m sorry about the malt shop, okay? Me and, uh, the guys went to the beach and I forgot we had plans.”  

Buffy settled her books on her lap, trying to tamp down her anger. “Riley, I’m not…” She stopped abruptly as he reached out and snagged _Howl_ from the top of her stack of books. “Hey!”

Riley frowned at the book, then at her. “What the hell is this?”

“Give it back,” Buffy said, feeling frustrated tears pricking at the back of her eyes. “It’s…it’s for school.”

The car was idling at a stop sign a couple of blocks from her house. Riley opened the book and Buffy took a breath, steeling herself. “I need it back, Riley.”

Riley’s mouth had dropped open as he skimmed a page, his brow furrowing. “Where the hell did you get this? What class is this for?” He held it out the window of the car, keeping her from being able to reach it.

Buffy stiffened in her seat. “I…it’s not important.”

Riley narrowed his eyes, glancing from her to the book again. “This is on the list,” he said, his voice low and angry. “The one Dad passed around of communist books. Who gave you this?”

“No one!” Buffy shot back. “Now give it back!”

Riley pulled away from the stop sign fast enough to make the tires squeal, rounding the corner and heading for school. “You should know better.”

He shook the book at her before tossing it carelessly out the window. The pages fluttered for a moment as the wind caught it before it dropped out of sight.

Buffy felt her heart lurch in her chest. “Stop!” she screamed as her tears spilled over. She spun in her seat, trying to see where her book had landed.

Riley slammed on the brakes, startled, and peered out the windshield. “What?”

Buffy swiped at her eyes and fumbled for the car door, gathering the rest of her scattered school things with shaking hands. “We’re through!” she announced. “Do you hear me, Riley Finn? I am not yanking you around or playing games. You never listened to me before, but you better listen to this: I am never going to marry you!”

Riley was staring at her like she’d suddenly sprouted a second head. “Babe-”

“Don’t you ‘babe’ me!” Buffy shrieked, finally pushing open the heavy car door. A car pulled up behind them and stopped for a second before driving around Riley’s haphazardly parking job in the middle of the street. “I’m not your babe, or your anything anymore! It’s over!” Buffy felt a tear drip off her chin. Riley’s expression darkened.

“Fine!” he shouted. “You aren’t worth the trouble anyways!”

“Neither are you!” she shot back. She slammed the car door shut and Riley took off again, leaving her standing in the middle of the street with tears streaming down her face. Buffy sniffed and shifted the books in her arms, wiping at her face with one hand while she started walking back the way they had come. Her mascara was probably a mess.

She finally spotted _Howl_ lying in the gutter, open and facedown on the pavement. There was a big crease in the spine, and a couple of the pages were wrinkled and bent, but it seemed otherwise intact. She trailed her fingers along the sure strokes that made up the letters of Spike’s name on the inside front cover and felt immensely better. She carefully smoothed out the pages and tucked it between two of her other books to keep it safe. She hoped Riley hadn’t guessed who she’d gotten from.

Her tears had finally stopped, and instead of the overwhelming sadness she’d always thought she’d feel if she and Riley had ever broken up, she just felt relieved. It was over.

***

It was even later than she’d planned when she finally got to campus, and she decided against going to her first class at all. She desperately wanted to find Spike so he could kiss her worries away, but he would be teaching right now. For the first time, Buffy hated that she had to keep her feelings for him a secret. She wanted to be able to hold his hand as they walked across campus, and to kiss him good morning and goodbye and any time in between. She wanted Riley to know who’d woken her from what felt like a deep, dreamless sleep and made her feel like she’d never felt before.

Buffy’d never had such an important secret before, and she wished desperately that she wasn’t carrying it alone. She couldn’t go see the professor as often as she wanted, because then she’d never leave his office and people were bound to notice that. She stopped in the middle of the quad, her knuckles white around her books. The sun was bright in the cloudless blue sky and the temperature was slightly cooler than it had been yesterday, though it was still perfectly pleasant. The nice weather seemed to be mocking her, when her mood was so gloomy.

Buffy watched a couple walk by, his arm slung over her shoulders, and felt tears threatening again. She turned away and the library caught her eye. She had a flash of inspiration. Willow wouldn’t tell anyone or be upset with her, Buffy realized, relieved. She could talk to her best friend. Buffy hurried in the direction of the library, feeling a little better already.

She felt her spirits lift even further as she pushed through the front doors and spotted Willow right away, leaning against the circulation desk and talking to Tara. Willow was smiling shyly and fiddling with the ends of her hair and it made Buffy pause for just a moment, but then someone in a letterman’s jacket hurried by, sparking her anger and grief once more.

Tara spotted her first, her face flushing pink as she pulled her hand from Willow’s grasp. “Hello, Buffy,”

“Hey,” Buffy replied, attempting a smile. She must have looked even worse than she felt, because Willow immediately appeared alarmed.

“Is everything okay?” Willow reached out and touched Buffy’s arm.

Buffy opened her mouth, closed it, looked down at her books and saw _Howl_ peeking out of the stack. Her lower lip start to tremble. “No.”

Willow’s eyes widened further. “Um, okay, let’s just…” She glanced around and Tara pointed toward a back corner.

“Try the reference section, it’s usually empty,” Tara said in a soft voice.

Willow gave the library assistant a grateful smile and Buffy let her friend hustle her towards the far end of the library while she struggled not to cry. Buffy found herself ensconced at an old scarred table in a back corner a minute later with Willow sitting next to her.

“What happened?” Willow asked worriedly.

Buffy sniffled and set her books on the table, pulling _Howl_ out of the stack and hugging it to her chest. It made her feel a little better. At least she had a little part of the professor to keep her company when she couldn’t see him.

Willow’s eyes got very wide. “Um, is that…?” She glanced around cautiously and lowered her voice. “Where did you get that? Are you reading that?” Willow sounded astonished. “Tara couldn’t even get me a copy!”

Buffy glanced down at the professor’s book and smiled a little. “I read it already. A couple times, actually. Um, someone lent it to me.”

Willow stared at her. “Okay, you better start at the beginning.”

This time Buffy was the one to glance around, but Tara had been right, there wasn’t anyone in the stacks back where they were. “Remember how l said I turned Riley down because of school and stuff?” Willow nodded. “Well, there’s a little more.” Willow’s eyebrows lifted. “Um, I’m kind of…seeing someone. Someone else, I mean.” Willow’s eyebrow’s almost disappeared into her hairline. “It’s brand new,” Buffy said quickly, trying to explain. “He just made me realize that I wasn’t happy with Riley anymore.” Buffy frowned slightly. “I don’t know if I ever was, actually.”

“Okay,” Willow said cautiously. “Do I know this mysterious ‘new someone’?”

Buffy took a breath. “Yes.” She paused, glancing down at the book and then back up, meeting her friend’s gaze steadily. “It’s Professor Pratt.”

Willow’s jaw dropped and Buffy bit her lip, gnawing on it worriedly as Willow’s expression seemed to cycle through about fifteen different emotions. Her friend finally seemed to settle on confused. “Uh, not that I’m not, you know, rooting for your happiness and all, but…are you sure, Buffy? I mean, he’s pretty nice to everybody and maybe you just…”

“We went on a date last night,” Buffy interrupted. “And we kissed.” Willow blinked at her. “A lot,” Buffy emphasized.

Willow blew out a long breath. “Okay, so that’s…Buffy, I really don’t think he’s supposed to-” Willow lowered her voice so far Buffy had to lean in to hear her. “Date his students,” her friend hissed.

Buffy shrugged. “I know, he told me. We’re keeping it a secret, so don’t say anything, okay? I just, I had a really bad morning and I needed to talk to someone about it.” Willow didn’t seem to know what to say to that. “I’m sorry,” Buffy sighed. “I know it’s a big thing to ask, and I know we’re breaking the rules but I…” Buffy trailed off. “He’s what I never knew I’d been missing, you know what I mean?”

Willow got a faraway look in her eye and her lips quirked up in a small smile. “Yeah, Buffy, I do.” Buffy’s shoulders slumped in relief. “So, did he give you the book?”

“Yeah.” Buffy smiled back at her friend.

“Wow, I can’t believe he has a copy,” Willow said, sounding awed.

Buffy smoothed her hand over the cover of _Howl_. “Riley threw it out of the car window this morning.”

“He did WHAT?” Willow gasped, her voice suddenly much louder. 

“Threw it out the window,” Buffy repeated absently. “I screamed at him and told him to get it through his thick skull that we were over and he left me in the middle of the street.” Buffy reached up and swiped at her watering eyes. She’d though she was done crying. “How could I have been so stupid? I thought he loved me.”

“Oh, Buffy.” Willow patted her knee. “I’m sorry. You’re not stupid at all. Riley’s just a big dope.” She glanced at the book again. “Do you think the professor would let me borrow that?”

Buffy’s arms tightened around _Howl._ “I don’t know,” she said reluctantly. “Maybe when I’m done with it.”

“Of course.” Willow eyed the book a second time. “Do you think he has more books like that?”

Buffy frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t know, probably. He’s staying with the Dean right now so he probably hasn’t unpacked them all.”

“The Dean?” Willow sounded alarmed. “Buffy…”

“He’s Spike’s godfather,” Buffy reassured her friend.

“Who’s Spike?” Willow scrunched up her nose in confusion and Buffy blushed.

“Oh, um, that’s the professor’s nickname.”

Willow blinked at her. “Really?”

Buffy nodded.

Her friend shook herself and then pulled something from her pants pocket. “Well, that’s…different. Tara and I are going to a meeting this weekend about all the arts and free expression being banned and how the patriarchy is trying to keep us all under their thumb.” Willow handed over a slightly crumpled flyer. “Maybe you and, uh, Spike,” Willow cringed slightly as she said his name, like the professor was going to reprimand her for failing to address him properly, “would want to come too?”

Buffy gingerly accepted the flyer. She knew it was a peace offering of sorts, and that Willow was doing her best to be supportive, but Buffy sincerely doubted she’d want to spend one of the few evenings she and Spike managed to get together in a stuffy basement full of socialists. “I’ll ask him about it,” Buffy promised, tucking the paper into _Howl_. She stood up, looking around for a clock. “Do you think classes are out yet?”

Willow glanced at her wristwatch. “They are.” She smiled slightly and stood up too. “Going to visit a certain someone?”

Buffy gathered up her books and shot Willow an amused smile. “Maybe I just have a question about an assignment?”

Willow giggled, her cheeks bright red. “I can’t believe you’re breaking school rules.” She sounded a teensy bit jealous.

“I’ll make sure and credit you as my inspiration,” Buffy assured her.

“You will?”

“Absolutely.”

***

This time, as Buffy crossed the quad, the blue sky seemed less mocking and more complementary, making her smile. Her best friend was still on her side, Riley finally understood that she wasn’t going to marry him, and she was on her way to see the professor. She hurried toward the English department, her books clutched to her chest.

She slowed as she reached the building, a frown crossing her face. There was a crowd gathered just outside the open front doors, looking as though they couldn’t get in for some reason. Buffy found herself on the fringes of the group, trying to peer over everyone’s shoulder to see what was happening.

Finally, she spotted a girl she recognized from one of her classes and tapped her on the arm. “Hey,” Buffy gave her a friendly smile. “Kathy, right? Do you know what’s going on?”

Kathy turned, her eyes wide with excitement. “Oh my gosh, didn’t you hear? Practically the whole football team’s been suspended for cheating!”

Buffy’s jaw dropped. “What?”

Kathy nodded enthusiastically. “They’re all in there now, meeting with the Dean. We could hear the coach yelling from here! I guess it was the new professor who turned them in, and told them they’re not going to be able to play this Saturday!”

Buffy felt slightly dizzy. “The new professor? Professor Pratt?”

“That’s him!” Kathy beamed at her. “Boy, coach’s face was so red when he stormed in there. I bet the professor’s going to be in a heap of trouble.”

“But, if they were cheating…” Buffy started.

“We’re two games from the playoffs!” Kathy gasped, sounding offended. “They can get suspended afterwards.” She waved a hand dismissively.

Buffy worriedly chewed on her lower lip and her heart sank. There was no way she was going to be able to sneak in and see Spike if he was sequestered with the Dean and coach and most of the football team.

She wanted to believe Riley wasn’t involved, but she remembered all those classes he’d declared were easy as pie when she’d complained about the work involved. She’d always felt so discouraged, knowing she’d never be as smart as he was. Buffy felt another piece of herself she’d thought was indisputable break off and drift free.

“Oh,” she said lamely. “Sure.” Suddenly, all those things Riley had said about the professor made a lot more sense. He’d known that Spike was going to turn the team in for cheating, and instead of being ashamed, Riley had been mad he’d gotten caught.

Buffy felt a swell of affection rising in her chest as she realized how difficult this must have been for Spike. The school practically revolved around the football team, and here was one man fighting for the regular students, even if they didn’t recognize it yet. Buffy reluctantly turned away from the crowd. She’d skipped enough of her classes this week as it was. She’d check in with Spike later, after things had calmed down. She couldn’t wait to show him just how proud of him she was.


	15. That'll Be The Day

“There you ladies are!” Xander called eagerly as they walked through the doors of the soda shop. He wiped down the counter in front of a couple of recently vacated stools and gestured at them to sit.

Willow’s hand was firmly tucked into the crook of Buffy’s elbow, and she steered Buffy to one of the stools before releasing her. Buffy slumped down in her seat wordlessly and put her books on the counter.

Xander paused. “Uh, is she okay?” he asked Willow, pointing at Buffy.

Willow patted Buffy’s arm sympathetically. “She just needs one of your extra special malts.”

Buffy sighed and stared forlornly at the chalkboard behind Xander, reading the cheerful descriptions of the shop’s beverages. All she could think was that not even a chocolate malt would cheer her up the way a stolen moment with Spike could. She hadn’t been able to see him all day. The English department had been overrun by boys in letterman jackets and Spike hadn’t been in his office any of the times she’d checked. She hoped he wasn’t in too much trouble. Sunny U really took football way too seriously.

Xander slid two tall glasses filled with chocolatey goodness across the counter, momentarily distracting her. Buffy toyed with her straw and propped her head up with one hand.

“So.” Xander leaned eagerly across the counter. “What the heck is going on over at the college? I’ve been hearing wild rumors about the whole football team being suspended!”

“Um, not quite the whole team,” Willow volunteered. “Just…most of them.”

Buffy glumly sucked some malt up through her straw and tried to enjoy it. She still missed Spike.

“What kind of stick in the mud benches a whole football team?” Xander scoffed.

Buffy let out a long sigh and stared at the counter. She wanted to tell Xander he was wrong, that Spike was not even close to being a stick in the mud, but then she’d have to explain how she knew that. Willow might have been understanding, but Buffy wasn’t sure how Xander would react to her new beau.

“Uh,” Willow glanced guiltily at Buffy. “I guess the new professor found out they’ve been cheating in their classes somehow. We haven’t heard much about it yet.”

“But they’ll still get to play tonight, right? We’re almost to the playoffs!” Willow just shook her head. Xander tossed his rag aside and put his hands on his hips, looking miffed. “What the heck? Did they moon his mother?”

Willow jerked her head in Buffy’s direction while replying to Xander’s question. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Xander immediately looked chastened. “Oh man, Buff, I’m sure Riley didn’t…”

“He did,” Buffy interrupted. “But it doesn’t matter. We broke up.”

Xander’s eyes went wide. “You…wait, really? When did this happen?”

Buffy shrugged. “Over the weekend.”

“And you’re, uh, okay?” Xander asked tentatively.

She nodded absently and took another sip of her malt. She wondered if the professor was okay, and hoped he knew she wasn’t mad at him like so many of the students seemed to be. Having to keep their relationship a secret had seemed so thrilling yesterday, but today it had brought her nothing but heartache.

Xander suddenly stood up tall and straightened his paper hat, his face flushing a dusky shade of red. “Uh, how can I…I mean, hi, welcome to…um…”

Buffy turned on her stool, surprised to see the carhop girl from next door behind her. The brunette was still wearing her uniform with the short skirt, but her roller-skates’ laces were tied together and slung over one shoulder. “Anya,” Buffy remembered after a moment, “Hey.”

“We’re, uh-” Willow darted a glance at Xander. “Glad you came in?” 

Anya was staring right at Xander, her smile flirtatious. “Boy, me too.”

Xander’s blush got a little deeper and Willow rolled her eyes, though she was still smiling. “Hi, I’m Willow.” She gestured at Xander. “And this is Xander. You’ve met Buffy, I think. Want a malt? Xander makes the best ones in town.”

“I’d love one,” Anya replied cheerfully. “Strawberry, please!”

Buffy started to smile just a little as Xander fumbled through making Anya’s drink, even though it was something he’d done a million times before. She didn’t think she’d ever see him so flustered around a girl, it was really kind of sweet.

“Actually,” Anya said after she settled onto a stool on Buffy’s other side. “I came in to deliver this.” She slid a folded piece of paper over to Buffy before returning her gaze to Xander, propping her chin on one hand and watching as Xander dropped a handful of straws and scrambled around trying to pick them all up again.

Buffy frowned at the paper and opened it. The handwriting was hasty, but the long swooping lines were the same ones that made up the familiar name in the front of _Howl_. ‘Our corner, 15 minutes’ it read. Buffy clutched the note tightly in her fist as she gathered up her books, relief filling her. Of course Spike had figured out a way to contact her. She was going to get to see him after all.

“Everything okay?” Willow asked, concerned.

Buffy nodded. “I have to go. I’ll call you later. Bye, Xander. Nice to see you again, Anya.” She was heading for the door before any of them could respond.

“Who was the note from?” Buffy heard Willow ask Anya.

“Oh, that guy she was with last weekend, with the black car?”

“Wait, the professor?” The answer to Xander’s question was cut off as the door to the soda shop closed behind her and Buffy hurried down the sidewalk. She had just enough time to get to the corner behind her house, and she didn’t want to keep Spike waiting if he was already there.  

***

Buffy bounced impatiently on her toes and peered down the street, but Spike’s car didn’t magically appear. She’d been so sure he’d be waiting for her, but that hadn’t been the case. Instead, she’d stood in front of the neighbor’s overgrown bushes, her worry nagging at her. What if the Dean hadn’t been able to protect Spike from the wrath of the football coach? What if Spike was hurt? It wasn’t his fault that Riley and some of the other idiots on the team had decided to cheat their way through college.

When she finally did see the professor’s car turning the corner, Buffy almost cried with relief. She hurried over as he pulled over to the curb, the big car idling while she yanked open the passenger door and slid inside. The moment her door was closed again, Spike steered them back onto the road.

He was halfway through a cigarette, his suit jacket and tie were nowhere to be seen, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His fedora was perched on the dash and his hair was messy like he’d be running his hands through it all day. He didn’t look hurt, just tense and upset. Buffy abandoned all of her school things in the footwell and slid across the front seat towards him, trying to get a good look at his face just to be sure. He didn’t seem to want to look at her.

“Are you alright?” she asked softly, laying a hand on his arm.

Spike took a last drag of his cigarette before flicking it out the window, exhaling the smoke. “For the moment,” he finally replied. Buffy scooted a little closer, and he lifted his arm, wrapping it around her shoulders and holding her close. His whole body was rigid against hers, like he couldn’t allow himself to relax. Buffy laid her head against his shoulder and breathed in the scent of him, a combination of chalk and smoke and sweat that he somehow made very appealing.

“What happened?” she asked softly.

“Can we not talk about that right now?” His voice was pleading, not angry like Riley’s would have been if Buffy had asked him about something he didn’t want to discuss. His fingers were trailing up and down her bare arm as they drove.

She put a hand on his thigh and stared out the windshield. “Of course.”

“Thank you.” He pressed a brief kiss against her temple.

They drove up a familiar winding road, taking the turnoff that led to their cliff. The sun was setting by the time they arrived, hanging just above the ocean’s edge and turning the sky a fiery shade of red.

Spike didn’t back the car up like the other times they’d been here. Instead, he just parked next to the twisted cypress tree so they were looking out over the cliff and shut the engine off. Buffy started to pull away but his arm tightened around her and she settled back against his side, watching the blue sky darken as Spike lit another cigarette. They sat quietly for a long time, though Buffy was bursting with questions. Spike finished his cigarette and laid his cheek against the crown of her head. She was almost certain he was breathing her in, too.

The sun was halfway over the horizon before Spike broke the silence. “You heard about what happened today.” It wasn’t a question.

“I heard,” Buffy said quietly.

“It’s not because…I mean, I didn’t go looking for something to get your ex into trouble, I promise, Buffy. I’ve been trying to figure out this mess since I took over for Gregory.”

Buffy lifted her head, startled. “I didn’t even think of that. Of course you wouldn’t.”

Spike gave her a wry smile. “You’re just about the only one who’d say that, I think.”

“What?” Buffy furrowed her brow. “They all think you wanted to suspend the whole football team because of me? But why?”

Spike ran a hand through his hair in agitation. “Not all of them, kitten, just Rupert—Dr. Giles. He’s figured out that I...I’m interested in you, and I’ve gone above and beyond for a woman before.” He paused. “It turned out rather badly for me, though I suppose not for her.” 

Buffy settled her head back against his shoulder so she could stare out the windshield and he wouldn’t be able to see the jealousy she was sure was written all over her face. He’d gotten into trouble for a woman, and that woman hadn’t been Buffy. “What happened before?” She was proud that her voice didn’t quiver.

Spike’s arm tightened around her, and she felt him press another kiss against her hair. “Got kicked out of my doctoral program,” he said, his voice low and quiet. She heard him take a breath. “Punched a bloke I thought was stealing the thesis of my, uh, former fiancée.” 

Buffy closed her eyes for a moment. “Oh.” This time she wasn’t able to hide the tremor in her voice.

Spike reached up with his free hand and stroked her hair. “I was a fool,” he said. “She let me believe someone was plagiarizing her work and setting her up to take the fall, but it was the other way round. I made some fairly public accusations and sealed my fate with a drunken brawl down at the pub. It wasn’t my finest hour.”

It probably shouldn’t have been so easy to picture him defending this strange woman she’d never met, but Buffy had seen that passion he had burning inside him. It spilled out in his lectures and gave his kisses an urgency she sometimes felt almost overwhelmed by. What she couldn’t imagine was lying to him like that. She wondered how often his ex-fiancée thought of him and if she regretted what had happened. Buffy glanced at Spike out of the corner of her eye. She was certain she’d regret it every day if she drove him away.

 “I’m sorry,” Buffy whispered.

Another kiss landed on her temple as the sky grew darker. The sun was just a bright halo on the horizon now, lighting up the edge of the sea. “Nothing for you to be sorry for,” Spike murmured against her hair. “Was my own stupidity that made me nearly unhirable, even after I managed to graduate. I’d have been lucky to get stuck in some backwater. If it weren’t for Rupert knowing about all that and still being willing to take a chance on me, I don’t know what I would have done.”

Buffy wondered if the tiny flame he’d kindled inside her would someday burn that bright: a beacon that even her friends and family could see. Spike deserved a chance to show everyone who he could be without the past haunting him, and she was grateful that the Dean had seen that too. It made her stomach ache to think she might never have met the professor otherwise.

“Do you need me to talk to the Dean?” Buffy asked hesitantly. “I can tell him…”

Spike was shaking his head. “No, kitten, thank you.” His voice was rough. “It’s not him I’m worried about; it’s the rest of those blighters. You’d think I threatened to set the whole place on fire the way all the bigwigs were running about today.”

Buffy’s fingers idly followed the inside seam of his trousers down towards his knee and then back up again. “Well, football is kind of a big deal around here.”

“I noticed,” Spike said wryly, shifting a little in his seat. His hand reached down to cover hers, stopping her movements. Buffy frowned a little. “Buffy.” He said her name so solemnly it sent her anxiety skyrocketing.

“Yes?”

“I promised Rupert…” He stopped and let out a long breath. Buffy picked up her head to look at him in the last light of sunset. The inside of the car was cast in gray shadows and the blue of Spike’s eyes was faded too. He leaned in and pressed his lips softly against hers. Buffy trembled in his arms as he kissed her. The gentleness of it frightened her as much as his unfinished sentence. There was none of the eagerness or impatience that she remembered from their date the night before, when every kiss had felt like a promise of more to come. This kiss was tender and thorough, like he was savoring every moment.

When he started to pull away, Buffy reached up and fisted a hand into his white dress shirt. “Wait,” she said, though she wasn’t sure why. Spike leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. She slid her hand up to caress his jaw, following the line of it to his lips. She traced the slope of his nose, the ridge of his brow, and the steep line of his cheek before kissing him once more and blinking back tears. “What did the Dean say?” she asked softly.

Spike made a distressed noise low in his throat. “He said-” He stopped and cupped her cheek. “You know how much I care for you, kitten, don’t you?”

She nodded once, slowly.

“It wouldn’t be for too long, I don’t think.” Spike’s eyes searched her face worriedly, though she wasn’t certain what he was looking for.

Buffy bit her lip, not quite following the conversation but knowing where it led all the same. “You can’t see me anymore,” she whispered.

Spike’s brow furrowed. “Just for a bit, Buffy. Until this mess blows over and the whole bloody administration isn’t breathing down my neck about it. Rupes is doing his best to keep everything on the up and up but if they got wind of you…I could lose my job.”

The ground fell out from under her. Buffy just stared at him, helpless. She had no idea what to say.

“It’s not just that, you know.” His tone held a tinge of desperation. “Even if I could find work somewhere else, it wouldn’t be here, it wouldn’t be near you. Hell, I don’t know if they’d even let me stay in the country.”

Buffy’s chest felt tight and she was having trouble breathing. Spike’s arm was heavy and solid around her waist, and his expression pleading, but all she could think was that she’d lost him.

He wouldn’t have any reason to resume their relationship after everything had settled down. He’d realize she was just a silly schoolgirl and there was nothing remarkable about her. Most certainly nothing worth risking his career over. She’d known she wouldn’t be able to keep him, but she’d thought she’d have more time.

Spike’s thumb swept across her cheek. “Buffy?” he asked uncertainly, and she realized she was staring at him, but hadn’t said a word.

“I-” Her throat felt too tight. She couldn’t make sense of the confused swirl in her brain. Was he asking if she would be alright after he inevitably decided he didn’t want her anymore? It wouldn’t take long for him to come to his senses and realize that girls like her were a dime a dozen. It would be torture to see him every day knowing he wasn’t coming back to her, but no one said she had to stay. Maybe she could go to New York after all. They had schools there she could attend, surely. Her heart wouldn’t hurt any less, but at least she wouldn’t be reminded of him every time she stepped onto campus. “That’s fine,” she managed to choke out.

Spike looked relieved. Her heart sank further. It felt like something was tearing her apart from the inside. She’d never thought anything could hurt like this. “Yeah?” He slid a hand up her spine. “It won’t be for long,” he said, his voice more confident now. “I swear, Buffy.”

Buffy nodded. She felt numb. He dropped his head onto her shoulder, nuzzling against her throat and pressing kisses there. She could hear him murmuring her name. “Not for long,” she repeated, feeling a tear slip down her cheek.

He kissed her jaw and then her ear. “I promise,” he whispered. “Just say you’ll wait for me.”

Buffy closed her eyes. “I will.” She meant it with every fiber of her being, but she knew it’d be in vain. He would come to his senses while they were apart. She was just one in a sea of women who could make him happy, and a lot of them were probably a lot more experienced than she was. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him close, breathing him in one last time. Seeing him in class for the rest of the semester was going to be the most difficult thing she’d ever have to endure.

The sun was long gone by the time Spike‘s hold on her loosened, and the night air was starting to turn chilly. He brushed her hair back away from her face. “Let me take you home?” His voice was rough.

Buffy nodded as she slid away from him towards the passenger door, her heartache increasing with every inch of space between them. She stared out the window as he turned the car around and started carefully making his way back to the main road. The old, neglected house slid by, as worn out and empty as she felt just then.

Spike reached out, snagging her hand and interlacing their fingers as he drove back into town, his was tapping on the steering wheel with his other hand, and she was sure he was wishing for a cigarette, but he didn’t release her hand until they were nearly at their corner again. Buffy didn’t think she’d ever be able to think of that spot as anything other than their corner.

The car drifted to the curb and stopped as he turned the key, quieting the rumbling engine. The scent of oleander wafted through the car, almost sickly sweet. Buffy stared down at the books by her feet and took a breath before bending to gather them up. She paused at _Howl,_ her heart clenching painfully before she slid it under the passenger seat. She would miss it, eventually, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to look at it without wanting to burst into tears. She was sure to be doing enough of that as it was. She sat back up with her school things clutched firmly in her arms and reached for the passenger door handle.

“Buffy,” Spike said, sounding miserable. He was tapping an unlit cigarette on the steering wheel. She turned back towards him and he reached for her before dropping his empty hand to the seat between them. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She sat there for a moment, staring at his forlorn expression, and knew she’d wait for him forever if she had to. She just wished it didn’t feel like she was dying in the meantime. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she whispered.

Buffy climbed out the car and closed the heavy door, watching him drive away. The taillights had long since winked out around the corner before she moved again.


	16. Lonesome Town

PRESENT DAY

“Hit me,” Anya declared, holding out her already empty glass. Tara obediently poured her a bit more of the scotch Giles seemed very fond of. Willow peered doubtfully into her drink and took another sip, grimacing. Tara gave her a small smile over the rim of her own glass. Anya sighed happily and sank back into the cushions of her chair. “Do you think they’ll wake up soon? Xander promised I could pick the bedroom games for a month if I showed up tonight.”

Willow hastily took a much larger swallow of scotch, making a face as she did so. “Let’s talk about something else. Anything else.” 

“I hope the dream isn’t bad,” Tara said, her mouth turned down in a slight frown.

“Unless it’s about Spike,” Willow muttered. Tara turned her frown on her girlfriend. “What? Oh come on, you can’t seriously think he’s good for her. He’s a vampire!”

“Oh, they’re usually very good.” Anya’s smile was slightly wicked.

Willow wrinkled her nose. “Not like that! I just mean…in general, I don’t get what she sees in him.”

Tara looked over to where Buffy was still ensconced in Spike’s arms. “Um, she did date Angel.”

“But not because he was a vampire!” Willow protested. “Because he was a good guy.”

“Until that whole no-soul incident,” Anya interjected, reaching for the scotch.

“Exactly! And Spike doesn’t even have one of those to keep him from…from killing goldfish!”

“Well.” Tara seemed to cast around for a minute. “Spike’s kind of…tough? He helps her with patrol sometimes, like Riley did.”

Anya rolled her eyes. “You two are entirely missing the point.”

Willow scowled at Anya and went to refill her own glass. “What is the point, then?”

Anya’s expression softened as she looked at the floor where Xander lay sleeping. “What if this was her chance to be happy, and she didn’t take it?”

Tara’s eyebrows lifted. “What?” Willow asked, bewildered.

Anya shrugged, her gaze shifting away from her fiancé. “I mean, if you knew you weren’t going to live for very long, wouldn’t you want to be with someone who made you happy? Even if it seemed crazy, or their friends don’t get it, wouldn’t it be worth it? What if you missed out on something amazing just because you were scared? Wouldn’t you at least want to try?”

Willow blinked at Anya, the scotch bottle dangling from her fingertips. “But…” her voice trailed off.

Tara reached out and took Willow’s hand in her own. “I guess we would.”

Anya raised her glass slightly, tipping it in their direction. “Me too.”

***

Buffy opened her eyes. Weak sunlight was streaming in though her bedroom window and she could hear birds chirping outside. Her eyes were scratchy from crying late into the night and her whole body ached. She was having trouble keeping track of the days, since they all seemed to blur together. This week was never ending. She didn

’t understand how the rest of the world could keep turning when hers had fallen apart so completely.

She stumbled to the bathroom and avoided looking in the mirror, knowing it would just reflect her dull complexion and puffy eyes. She ran a brush through her hair, too tired to pull it back, and returned to her room. Not even blusher could help her dull complexion, so she didn’t bother. She opened her closet and stared inside. It was stuffed with clothes so overwhelmingly colorful it hurt to look at them. She managed to find a dark blue dress and pulled it on, glad of its simplicity.

“Buffy, breakfast!” Joyce called. There was a note of anxiety in her mother’s voice. Buffy gathered her school books and went downstairs. 

“Honey.” Joyce slid a stack of pancakes in front of Buffy. “I know you’re upset, but you still need to eat.” Buffy looked up from her unappetizing breakfast and took in her mother’s worried face. “I’m sure whatever happened will work itself out,” Joyce added gently. She ran a hand through Buffy’s hair and reached up, plucking a couple of bobby pins from her own carefully styled curls to pin one side of Buffy’s hair back.

Buffy nodded and picked up her fork, mechanically beginning to work her way through the pancakes to placate her mother. Everything tasted wrong. The syrup was too sweet and the butter sour, while the pancakes themselves sat like wet ashes in her mouth.

Buffy choked down a few bites before abruptly pushing her chair back and standing. “I have to get to school.”

Joyce was hovering nervously next to her. “Are you sure you’ll be alright by yourself this weekend? We’re supposed to leave in the morning but I can ask your father…”

Buffy shook her head. At least now she knew it was Friday. She had Spike’s class again today. Her stomach twisted and the few bites of food she’d managed threatened to come back up. “I’m fine,” she said. She wondered if she repeated it enough times it would someday be true. It felt like her insides had been replaced with a deep, dark well. Any feelings she should have had were just dropped into that gaping void, never to be seen again.

“Take a jacket, it looks like rain.” Her mother’s eyes swept over Buffy, but if she found her daughter’s outfit lacking, she didn’t say a word.

Buffy headed for the front door, pausing to slip on her belted tan coat. She’d wanted to get it in red initially, so she could wear it to Riley’s football games, but her mother had insisted on a more practical color. Buffy was immensely grateful for that now. The daring red dress she’d worn on her first—and apparently only—date with Spike had been buried in the back of her closet. She couldn’t bear to look at it anymore.

She stepped outside, her school things clutched tightly to her chest, and gazed up at the cloudy sky before dropping her eyes to the gray sidewalk under her feet and slowly starting towards the school.

***

“Buffy?” A gentle hand landed on her arm and Buffy stopped walking, looking up at Willow, who was hovering anxiously by her elbow. “Um, class is this way.” Her friend jerked her head in the direction of another corridor and Buffy sighed, making the turn she’d almost missed. Willow kept her hand on Buffy’s arm. “Are you sure you want to go?” 

Buffy just nodded. Every moment she was in the professor’s class was both torture and relief. Hopefully this one would be better than the last, where she’d been in such a fog of sadness she could barely remember anything but the sound of his voice washing over her. Willow had demanded to know what was going on afterwards, and Buffy had given her best friend an abbreviated version of what had happened. She’d had to beg her to keep from storming off and giving the professor a piece of her mind.

They entered the classroom together; Willow’s guiding hand the only thing that kept Buffy from stopping in her tracks when she caught sight of Spike. He was slumped in the chair behind the desk, staring sightlessly at the slowly-filling lecture hall. His hair was in disarray and his hat was nowhere to be seen. His tie was twisted, making his collar lumpy, and his suit jacket was a rumpled mess. It all made Buffy’s heart ache.

Willow steered them towards their usual seats halfway up and only released Buffy’s arm once they were both settled. Buffy couldn’t tear her eyes from Spike, but he seemed to be avoiding looking in her direction at all. He fumbled with his ever-present pack of cigarettes and lit one with shaking fingers.

The students around them were noisier than usual and Buffy realized that the next football game was scheduled for tomorrow but the team was still suspended. Everyone seemed to be waiting with bated breath to see what would happen. The swirling rumors ranged from the players all being exonerated by the president of the college himself to the rest of the season being cancelled.

One of the other students, a girl Buffy vaguely recognized, stopped by the professor’s desk. She was wearing one of the short cheerleaders skirts and had her long blonde hair done up in an elaborately curled ponytail. Buffy’s insides lurched painfully as the girl leaned towards Spike, smiling flirtatiously while pointing to a page in the book she was holding. The professor gave his reply and the girl turned to walk to her seat, her hips swishing exaggeratedly. Buffy wondered with despair if it was happening already, Spike slowly realizing she wasn’t any more special than a thousand other women. A tiny, sad noise escaped her lips.

“Buffy?” Willow sounded concerned. “Are you-”

“Who was that?” Buffy interrupted

Willow shrugged. “Um, I think her name’s Harmony? But she…”

“Do you think he thinks she’s pretty?”

Willow let out a sigh. “Buffy, I know this is hard, but maybe it’s for the best?”

Buffy blinked and turned her full attention to her friend. “What?” she whispered, feeling her heart break just a little bit more.

Willow furrowed her brow and glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “I mean,” she continued, her voice low. “You’re both bound to get into trouble, no matter how careful you are, and it was only one date. It’s not like you’re in love with him or anything.” Willow paused, taking in Buffy’s stricken expression. “Uh, are you?” 

Buffy blinked back tears. “I don’t…I don’t know,” she whispered.

Willow patted her hand. “You’ll be okay,” she said confidently.

Buffy swiped at her watery eyes and turned to face the front, unable to form a reply. Spike was watching her, a cigarette dangling limply between his fingers. His mouth was turned down and his eyes were heavy with sorrow. Buffy wanted so badly to climb into his lap and kiss him until those lips were smiling again. He ran a hand through his messy hair and stood, clearing his throat. “Page fifty-three,” he said brusquely. The class quieted down, the auditorium filling with the sound of rustling papers. Willow found the page in her book and then quietly opened Buffy’s, turning it to the correct page as well.

Spike finally stood, shrugging out of his suit jacket. The white button up shirt he was wearing under it was just as wrinkled. “Veering a bit off the syllabus here, but I’d appreciate it if you’d humor me.” The class let out a low, rumbling laugh. “How many of you are familiar with Dylan Thomas?”

A few hands went up as Buffy leaned forward, her chin propped on her fist, and began to read the poem on the page in front of her. By the time she’d reached the end she was crying again, and Willow silently passed her a clean handkerchief as Buffy tried to quiet her sniffles. Someone in the class was hesitantly reading the first stanza but Spike’s eyes were squarely on Buffy.

***

 “Miss Summers?”

Buffy’s heart thumped so loudly she was sure the professor could hear it. Slowly, she turned to face him. “Yes?” she replied. She’d been so close to getting out of class without another crying jag.

Spike stared at her for a moment, his knuckles white where his fingers curled around the edge of the desk. He cleared his throat. “Can you please come by during office hours?”

Her heart sank down to her toes. He was going to tell her he’d made a mistake, and that they couldn’t ever be together. He was going to break her heart. Buffy opened her mouth to reply but couldn’t find her voice, so she nodded instead. Her eyes ached from all the tears she’d shed. He seemed to search her face but she wasn’t sure what he was looking for.

“She’ll be there,” Willow said, her tone wary. “What do you need to speak with her about?”

Spike didn’t look away from Buffy. “Hm? Oh, uh, grades.”

Willow narrowed her eyes but didn’t say anything further, leading Buffy out the classroom door and towards the library.

Buffy had spent a lot of time with her friend at the library over the last few days, and she was starting to suspect that Willow’s mysterious crush wasn’t on a man at all. It was a little surprising, but Tara was a really sweet girl and Buffy just couldn’t find it in her heart to wish either of them anything but happiness. So many pieces of her world seemed to be crumbling lately, and facts she’d thought immutable seemed to be cast into doubt everywhere she looked. How could anyone think Willow’s crush was wrong when they saw the way she and Tara both lit up around each other?

“Hey,” Tara whispered from behind the circulation desk as they approached. “Maybe we should find a quiet corner.” She picked up a stack of books and led the way through the maze of shelves into the poetry section. Buffy trailed her fingers across the spines of all the books and wondered how many of them the professor had read. She almost regretted leaving _Howl_ in his car, if it weren’t for the knowledge that he loved it so much. She wondered if he’d ever think of her when he read it, like she’d thought of him.

“Is something wrong?” Willow asked curiously as Tara set her books aside and glanced around.

“I, um, overheard some interesting things this morning,” Tara said softly. She glanced at Buffy worriedly. “I think the cheerleaders were somehow involved in this cheating thing too.”

Willow looked perplexed. “They were cheating too?”

Tara shook her head. “No, I think…” She gnawed on her lower lip for a moment. “I think they were helping convince the professors somehow to give the team better grades.” She paused, and her voice dropped even further. “Riley was in here earlier with a couple of them, and one was that same girl from before.”

“Sam.” Willow’s voice dripped with distain.

Tara nodded. “Yes. She and Riley were, um, they seemed really…close.” She looked at Buffy anxiously. Buffy couldn’t even find it in herself to be surprised.

“Of course they are,” Willow muttered. She put her hands on her hips and scowled. “I can’t believe the nerve of him! I should give him a piece of my mind.” She turned to Buffy, her expression softening. “I’m so sorry, Buffy. Do you want me to kick him in his…um, where the sun doesn’t shine?”

“Willow!” Tara sounded shocked and slightly amused.

Buffy managed to dredge up a weak smile. “He’s not worth it, but thank you.” She looked around at all the books again. “Do we have any Dylan Thomas?”

Tara sighed and pulled a book from the pile she’d set aside earlier. “I hope you feel better soon, Buffy.”

“I have to go meet Sp- Professor Pratt,” Buffy replied, absently sliding the slim volume on top of her school things. “Thanks for letting me know about Riley and Sam.”

She left before Tara and Willow could offer any more condolences. She wasn’t sure how to tell them that she’d gotten over Riley the moment she’d laid eyes on Spike. It was like she’d been stumbling along in the dark until the professor had come along and helped light her way. For just a moment it had seemed like she could see a brilliant future, but now it was shrouded in shadows.

Buffy shivered as she crossed campus again. The wind had picked up and the gray clouds were getting darker. It looked like her mother had been right about the rain.

By the time she got to the professor’s office she was cold inside and out. A pit of ice had formed in her stomach where the butterflies used to live. His door, with its crooked nameplate, was slightly ajar, and Buffy pushed it open. She took a breath and lifted her eyes from her shoes only to stumble back, smacking her shoulder painfully against the doorframe. All the breath whooshed from her lungs.

Spike wasn’t alone in his office. That girl from before, the one Willow had called Harmony, was in there with him, and it certainly looked like they were doing more than discussing an assignment. The professor was leaning back against his desk and the cheerleader was standing much too close for just a friendly conversation, with both hands braced against his chest and her face tipped up towards his.

Buffy felt like the floor had fallen out from under her. Was this why he’d asked her to come, so he could show her how little she’d meant to him? She gasped, trying to regain her breath, and saw Spike’s stricken expression. She thought he might have said her name but there was a loud ringing in her ears. Buffy grasped the door handle in an effort to stay upright. “I…I’ll go,” she said weakly.

“Wait!” the professor called frantically. Buffy stumbled out his office door. Behind him she heard a high pitched, female voice loudly complaining, and Spike’s low, growled reply. Her hands were shaking and she couldn’t get enough air. The volume of poetry she’d gotten from Tara slid off her stack of books and hit the ground with a loud, echoing thud. Buffy stared at it with sightless eyes, trying to get her feet to move.

“Buffy?” Spike was suddenly in front of her, peering into her face and taking the rest of her books before they slipped from her loose embrace. “Buffy, it wasn’t…”

A group of students came around the corner, talking loudly. Spike straightened up. “Why don’t you come sit for a moment in my office, Miss Summers,” he said. Buffy could hear the undercurrent of anxiety in his voice. She lifted her eyes to his, meeting that blue gaze that had haunted her dreams for the last few restless nights. How could he do this to her?

“Please, Buffy,” he added quietly as the student’s voices faded. She crossed her arms over her chest and walked towards his office, praying her wobbly knees wouldn’t give out. He followed her in and closed the door behind them, carefully setting her school things on his desk. He’d even picked up the Thomas book, she noticed. The book she’d asked for because she missed him, although clearly he’d wasted no time replacing her. “Buffy,” he said again. “I swear, I never…”

She turned, tears burning behind her eyes that she refused to let fall, and lifted her hand, striking him across the cheek. He stared at her for a moment, open-mouthed, while she pulled her stinging palm close to her chest and watched a red mark appear on his face where she’d slapped him. A tear slipped down her cheek as he hung his head and sighed. “I probably deserved that,” he muttered.

Buffy wiped at her eyes with her aching hand. “I should go,” she said shakily.

“No, please,” Spike’s voice was desperate. “Just let me explain. It wasn’t what it looked like.” Buffy felt herself wavering, both wanting to believe him and wanting to be as far from him as possible so she could nurse her broken heart. “Please.” His tone was low and hoarse.

Buffy glanced up at him. He looked so worried she didn’t know how to say no. “I can’t stay long,” she finally replied.

His entire body seemed to sag in relief. Buffy sank into the uncomfortable chair before her legs gave out entirely. Spike perched on the edge of his desk, his hand raking through his hair. He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves and he had ink on his fingers and chalk dust on his trousers. “She took me by surprise,” he said. “Said she’d been sent to straighten out this cheating business and before I could ask what she meant she was…well, you came in just about then.”

Buffy stared down at her clenched hands in her lap, trying to make sense of Spike’s story. “But what does she have to do with…” she trailed off, remembering what Tara had mentioned earlier. “Convincing the professors,” she finished softly.

Spike knelt down in front of her. “I swear, Buffy, I would never…” He took a deep breath. “Every day I miss you, even when you’re right in front of me.” Buffy lifted her gaze to meet his. “ _Light breaks where no sun shines_.” He was looking up at her, his expression earnest. “You’re my light, Buffy.”

She reached out and cupped his cheek, rubbing her thumb across the fading redness there. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “It just hurt so much to think you didn’t care.”

Spike covered her hand with his own and turned his head to kiss her palm. “Impossible. I could never forget you, not for a second.”

“I miss you, too,” Buffy whispered. Spike’s lips began to work their way down, kissing her wrist, and then her forearm. Buffy’s heart started thumping rapidly in her chest. The inside of her elbow was next, and he also bit her gently there, making her gasp in surprise, before he moved to kiss her upper arm.

Buffy was mesmerized, watching him move closer to her as her body began to heat up. His other hand skated up her leg, pushing her skirt up to caress her knee. By the time Spike had kissed his way up to her throat, Buffy’s breath was coming short and fast, and she wanted nothing more than to feel his lips against hers. “Spike,” she gasped, her hands twisting into his messy curls.

“Buffy,” he murmured in her ear. “Christ, it’s torture to see you and not be able to touch.”

Buffy let out a half-sob, half-laugh, and practically fell from her chair into his arms. His lips were soft and warm and perfect, just like she remembered, and he knew exactly how to touch her. One of his hands was caressing her bottom under her dress and the other was tangled in her hair as he kissed her with the same urgency she felt. His tongue thrust demandingly into her mouth as one of his fingers dipped under the elastic edge of her panties and Buffy whimpered against his lips. Her arms were both around his neck so she could hold herself as close to him as possible, her knees on either side of his hips.

“What about waiting?” Buffy asked breathlessly between kisses.

“Screw waiting,” Spike growled, sending a thrill up her spine. He kissed along the neckline of her dress before pulling back and frowning at it. “There’s no buttons.” He sounded disappointed.

Buffy glanced down at the plain front of her dress. “Well, no, it has a zipper…” She started to twist in his lap to show him but he tightened his hold on her.

“Buffy.”

She paused and turned back to him, taking in his face. “Yes?”

He stroked a hand through her hair. “Let me take you out on a proper date. If we just get away from this blasted town we could…”

Buffy put a hand over his mouth to stop him before removing her fingers and kissing him swiftly in apology. “I have a better idea.” Spike lifted his eyebrows. “I have the house all to myself this weekend.” She watched his lips curve into his slow, secret smile and her heart skipped a beat. “So I could make you dinner?” she finished, feeling her face flush.

Spike pulled her close and kissed her slowly and thoroughly, making her melt against him. She was nearly panting when he pulled away. “It’s a date.”

Buffy ducked her head and smiled, sliding her fingers under his collar to straighten out his haphazard tie. Spike watched her quietly, his hands stroking her thighs under her dress. When she finished, she gave his chest a gentle pat. “There, that’s better.” 

Spike leaned in and gave her an equally gentle kiss. “Always is with you.”


	17. Will You Love Me Tomorrow

Saturday had dawned crisp and cool, perfect weather for a football game. Buffy had eaten breakfast with her mother, and Hank had even made an appearance toward the end, though he’d looked harried. He’d been on the phone for most of the meal, arguing with someone in a hushed, annoyed tone. Buffy hoped his work wasn’t going to ruin the weekend away. Her mother had been distracted and sad lately, and deserved a little vacation.

“Bye, pumpkin.” Her father leaned in to kiss her cheek as they all gathered in the foyer to say their goodbyes. “No wild parties while we’re gone.” He grinned at her as Buffy rolled her eyes.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Joyce kissed Buffy’s other cheek and gave her an encouraging smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Didn’t I tell you things would work out?”

Buffy flushed guiltily. She still hadn’t told her mother about the breakup with Riley, let alone that she was now seeing her professor. She had no idea how her parents were going to take the news, but it was definitely going to be a shock. Maybe Joyce’s mood would be better after this little break and Buffy could tell them then. “Have a great time,” she said.

Her father loaded up the suitcases and Buffy stood on the front porch, waving, until their car disappeared around the corner. She lowered her hand and took a deep breath of the cool morning air. It was finally starting to smell like fall, though the lawns up and down the street were as green as ever. Tonight might be final football game of the season, if Sunny U hadn’t already forfeited. For the first time in a long time, Buffy wouldn’t be in those stands. A grin broke out across her face as she turned and headed back into the house. She had an evening to plan.

***

Buffy stuck her head deep into the cupboard and winced as one of her curlers caught on something. “Candles, candles, come on…” she muttered to herself. “Ah-ha!” she exclaimed in triumph a moment later, emerging with the last couple of tall taper candles apparently in the whole house. She reached up to make sure none of her curlers had been dislodged before getting up off the floor and brushing the dust off her knees. Thank goodness she hadn’t changed yet. She glanced at the clock. Though she probably should soon.

A frisson of anticipation ran through her. She’d spent most of the day trying to figure out what to make for dinner, rummaging through the meals her mother had left before deciding she should make it from scratch herself. She’d followed her mother’s fanciest recipes diligently, but she had her doubts about some of the results. The green jello thing in the fridge was especially dubious looking. At least the roast in the oven smelled delicious, and she’d found a bottle of wine with a pretty label she hoped Spike would like.

She stuck the tapers in the candleholders on the table and put her hands on her hips, surveying the results with satisfaction. An acrid smell wafted out from the kitchen, making Buffy’s eyes widen. “The potatoes!” With a gasp, she rushed to pull the dish from the oven and set it on the stovetop, staring with dismay at the crispy black edges of her scalloped potatoes. She frowned. Well, shoot, she’d just have to make sure and serve Spike the middle part.

Buffy glanced at the clock again before opening the oven door to check on the roast. It’d been frozen, but she’d put it in the oven plenty early to give it lots of time to cook. She hoped it would be ready soon. She closed the oven door and decided she’d better get changed before anything distracted her. Tossing the hotpads aside, Buffy headed for the bottom of the stairs, already unrolling her hair from the curlers.

Hurrying upstairs and into the bathroom, Buffy eyed her hair critically before nodding and pinning one side back, away from her face, and brushing the rest into place. She took her time with her makeup, adding eyeliner this time, and finishing with a pink lipstick that informed her it was ‘Maiden’s Blush’. She smiled after she applied it, her cheeks already colored with excitement and bearing a remarkable resemblance to the color on her lips. Perfect.

The outfit she’d chosen was already out and lying on her bed. Buffy shucked off her pedal pushers and shirt before pulling a slip over her head and smoothing it down over her hips. It felt pleasantly silky against her skin, and the vee in the front was low enough to let her get away with undoing several buttons.

She sat on the edge of her bed and carefully pulled on a pair of brand-new stockings, clipping them with utmost care to the ends of her garter straps. She pulled on a blush-colored blouse and did up most of the buttons, then slipped on a slim gray skirt that clung to her hips and thighs before flaring out a little just above her knees.

Her mother wasn’t going to be happy when she found out Buffy had charged it all to her account at the department store yesterday after school, but the look on Spike’s face would make it all worth it. Buffy fussed with her blouse, finally settling on leaving three buttons undone, and slipped on the nice heels she’d worn on their last date. Their first and, thank goodness, not only date. She took a deep breath and examined herself once more in the mirror, making sure her stocking seams were straight. He’d be here soon. Buffy had never felt so exhilarated and nervous all at once.

***

Night had crept in while she was getting ready, and there was a soft knock at the back door just as Buffy finished pulling the roast out of the oven. She hastily took off her apron and hung it on its peg, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel and crossing to the door. She opened it and felt her knees go weak.

Spike was standing in the gentle glow of the porchlight. He had his hair slicked back and was wearing one of his ubiquitous black button ups with dark jeans. He was clutching an enormous bouquet overflowing with more types of flowers than Buffy could name. “Buffy.” He said her name like he was surprised to see her standing there, even though she’d invited him.

“Hello, Spike,” she replied, glad her voice hadn’t deserted her completely. “Um, come in?” Buffy pulled the door open wider and he took a hesitant step inside, glancing around at the kitchen. Buffy wished she’d hidden the burned potatoes.

Spike gestured at the flowers, his face turning pink. “Wasn’t sure what kind you liked.”

“So you just got them all?” Buffy grinned, feeling a little giddy. He always made her feel so special, like she was the only girl he could see, even in a crowded room. She wanted so much for that to be true.

Spike set the oversized bouquet on the counter and took a step closer to her, his hand reached out to graze her hip. “Pretty much,” he admitted, the corners of his mouth lifting a little. “You look beautiful.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers almost hesitantly, until Buffy slid her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. She traced the seam of his lips with the tip of her tongue and heard him groan. She felt bolder with each passing moment. His hands slid down to cup her behind. Buffy gasped against his lips, and Spike took the opportunity to thrust his tongue into her mouth just as something began to beep loudly and insistently nearby.

“Dinner,” Buffy said breathlessly, pulling back a little.

Spike slid his hands up to her waist. “Smells delicious, kitten.”

 She stepped back and smoothed her skirt down nervously. “Would you carve?”

“Course.” There was a companionable silence in the kitchen as Spike set to his task and Buffy found a vase to put her flowers in before taking them out to the dining room table. She quickly lit the candles and set the needle on the record she’d picked out earlier, switching the player on.

When she returned to the kitchen, Spike was frowning at the roast he was cutting into and Buffy’s eyes widened at how pink it was inside. “I…it’s not done, is it?” she asked, her shoulders slumping. Spike glanced over at her, his brow furrowed, and Buffy’s stomach dropped to her shoes. She’d worked so hard to try and make this perfect, but of course she’d messed up like she always did and now he knew that not only was she an inexperienced school girl, she also couldn’t cook. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to hold back the tears that had sprung to her eyes. “I can…my mother left some-”

“It’s fine,” Spike interrupted, still watching her. “Look, the ends are perfect.” He slid a well-done slice onto a plate and smiled at her. Buffy blinked back her tears and stared for a moment, bewildered, as Spike set to work on the other end, carving off enough for each of them. “There we are.”

Buffy managed to close her mouth. “Are you sure…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Spike said, sliding by her with the pieces of roast he’d salvaged. He kissed her swiftly. “Plenty for the two of us.”

Buffy followed him with the other dishes, still reeling at how easily he’d shrugged off her inability to do something as simple as cook a roast. She settled down in the chair across from him and attempted a smile. “I’m really sorry, I thought it had been in there long…”

“Buffy.” Spike reached out and rested his hand palm up on the table until she slid her hand into his. His fingers closed around hers and squeezed. “I came to see you; the dinner is just a bonus.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Shall I pour the wine?”

Buffy ducked her head and smiled, blushing profusely. “Yes, please.”

Spike released her hand and filled their glasses before they tucked into their meal. Buffy poked at the green jello thing and took a hesitant bite. She immediately wished she hadn’t. Spike had narrowed his eyes at his portion of jello and was prodding it with his fork while Buffy frantically swallowed what she had in her mouth and took a swig of wine. “Don’t eat that,” she gasped. Spike looked up, surprised. “I don’t think it’s real food,” she shuddered.

Spike pressed his lips together in a thin line and it took Buffy a moment to realize he was holding in laughter. He topped off her wine. “Well, it’s a lovely color. We’ll call it decoration.”

A giggle bubbled out of Buffy’s throat and she put her hand over her mouth to stifle it. “Maybe you should let me taste the rest first, too.”

Spike eyed his dinner plate. “Think I’ll live on the edge,” he said, putting a bit of unburned potatoes in his mouth. Buffy watched nervously until he finished chewing, but he didn’t look like he regretted anything. “Delicious.” He grinned at her. “Put that one in the success column.” He poked at the green thing curiously before spearing a bit of the roast. “What’s in this, anyways?”

“Um.” Buffy thought for a moment. “Carrots and cabbage, plus pimentos and some other things. It’s supposed to be made with unflavored jello, but I could only find lime.”

Spike stared at her. “You’re joking.”

“No?”

Spike shook his head. “Kitten, that failure is entirely the fault of whoever decided all that rubbish belonged together. Not you.” He picked up his wine glass and tipped it towards her. “Thank you for making this lovely meal.”

Buffy smiled so wide it nearly hurt her cheeks. She picked up her own wine glass. “I’m glad you like it.” She took a sip and watched Spike watch her from across the table. She took a deep breath. “And I’m glad you came tonight.”

Spike’s smile made the corners of his eyes crinkle in a way that made her insides ache. “Sure you don’t mind missing the game?”

“Are they playing?” Buffy asked in surprise. “But you…”

Spike shrugged. “Enough of them were cleared to keep from having to cancel, or so I gathered, but none of the usual players.” His brows drew together. “Did you want to go? I could…”

“No,” Buffy said firmly, shaking her head. This time she was the one to reach across the table. Spike took her hand, his fingers slid across her wrist and made her thighs quiver.  “I’d much rather be right here.”

***

She’d flipped the record over while Spike cleared the table, insisting she’d done enough already. He’d helped put the leftovers away and then coaxed her away from the dirty dishes with the promise of a little more wine.

They hadn’t quite made it back to the table though. Spike’s hands had settled on her hips and he’d pulled her into a loose embrace when they passed the record player, turning Buffy in an entire circle before she realized they were dancing. She’d laughed and grasped his shoulders, then let him take her hand and spin her around some more. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed herself so much.

Spike pulled her close, one hand pressed against the small of her back and the other sliding through her hair as a slower song started. “Someday I’m going to take you out on the town, kitten, but I’m not looking forward to having to fight off all the other blokes who’ll be vying for your attention.”

Buffy reached up and ran the tip of one finger across the scar through his eyebrow. “I’m sure you can hold your own,” she said impishly. She was feeling warm and relaxed and she wasn’t sure if it was due to the wine, or Spike, or both.

Spike made a noise deep in his throat that had Buffy’s heart thumping a little faster. His hand slid down to her bottom, pulling her pelvis flush against his. She could feel his hardness trapped between them and her hands fisted into the fabric of his shirt. “Would you,” she said breathlessly, trying to think how you went about inviting a man up to your bedroom. “I mean, you don’t have to leave, do you?”

They were hardly moving at all anymore, though the song’s tempo had picked up. Spike gently tipped her face back, his fingers caressing her jaw, so she was looking into his eyes. “Would you like me to stay?”

Buffy nodded, her mouth going dry. “Yes, please,” she whispered.

Spike bent to kiss her, and her nervousness evaporated, replaced by an urgent need to be as close to him as possible. She hardly remembered how they got upstairs, but she did remember Spike coming up for air long enough to ask directions to her bedroom. Her blouse’s buttons were somehow all undone by the time they stumbled through the doorway and Spike nearly tripped over her bed, sitting with a sudden thump.

He made a noise of contentment as he nuzzled his face between her breasts while his fingers searched for the clasp to her bra. She felt it loosen after a moment and then his mouth was on her bare breast, his lips working her nipple to a hard point while his fingertips did the same to the other one. The straps of her slip were hanging halfway down her arms.

Buffy slid her fingers into Spike’s hair and gently tugged him away from her breasts, impatient to get his shirt off again so she could see him. The light from her bedroom lamp was dim and cast everything in a golden glow. She’d bet he’d look just as lovely in this light as he did under the moon. Buffy tried to undo the buttons of Spike’s shirt with trembling fingers as he watched with hooded eyes, his chest heaving. Buffy moved to straddle his lap but was stopped by the tightness of her skirt. She let out a noise of frustration and Spike reached up to help her fumbling fingers, caressing the backs of her hands before undoing a couple of buttons himself. “We’ve got all night, kitten,” he murmured.

A shiver ran up Buffy’s spine and there was a corresponding pulse between her legs. “I think I’ve waited long enough,” she breathed. She yanked up her skirt high enough to allow her to climb onto the bed, her knees on either side of his hips and her aching core pressed against his hardness. His cock. If she was bold enough to invite him to her bedroom, she could certainly be bold enough to use whatever words she wanted to.

“Buffy.” Spike’s voice was reverent as he slid his hands up her thighs, pushing her skirt up further while she busied herself with his buttons and finally pushed his shirt off his shoulders. She tugged his undershirt up and he helped her yank it off over his head before he returned to exploring the area between her legs. She felt him slide one finger under the edge of her panties, and then he was pushing it inside of her like he’d done before. “Oh christ, you’re so wet, kitten.”

She clutched his shoulders and let out a gasp as he began to push a second finger inside of her before he pulled his hand away. Buffy wiggled a little, disappointed, but Spike just twisted a hand into her hair and drew her in for a deep kiss. “Wearing too many clothes,” he growled.

Without breaking the kiss, Buffy set her feet back on the floor and unzipped the back of her skirt, pushing it down until it slid off her legs. Spike groaned as she settled back in his lap. Her slip was pooled around her waist and she was still wearing her panties and stockings but Spike didn’t seem to mind. He slipped his fingers under the elastic, exploring her sensitive flesh and rubbing in just the right spot while he pushed two fingers inside of her. She could feel her inner walls stretching to accommodate him as she rocked against his hand. Noises were coming out of her mouth that she’d never heard before as electricity pooled low in her belly and threatened to overflow.

“Spike,” she gasped. His hand moved a little faster, his mouth moving down her throat towards her breasts, and then her legs were shaking and her core was clamping down around his fingers. She was keening his name as the electricity in her belly shot out all the way to her toes and fingertips, leaving her panting.

“So gorgeous, my lovely Buffy.” Spike was looking at her with such awe she felt herself flush.

She reached down and pressed her palm against his trapped cock, making him groan. “Please, Spike,” her voice was low and breathy, like she’d never heard herself before.

He urged her back to standing, and she moved, a little confused, until his fingers hooked on the strap of her garter and slowly undid the fastening. His eyes were locked on her legs as he undid one stocking, and then the other, slowly sliding them down. She was trembling by the time he was finished, and he gazed up at her in adoration as he tugged her panties down at last. She let her slip flutter to the floor, leaving her naked in front of him. Buffy took a shuddering breath as he pulled her back into his lap, his hands never stopping their slow caress across her skin.

Her fingers fumbled with his belt buckle and his hand covered hers, helping her undo it. He pulled her down until they were lying side by side on the bed and undid the button and zipper. He began to push his jeans down and Buffy found herself holding her breath as his cock appeared. It was straining and erect, the head of it so red it looked almost painful. She tentatively traced the length of it with a fingertip and Spike let out a low moan, his hand coming up to pull hers away. “Too much right now, kitten.” He took the sting out of his words by kissing her fiercely and pulling her flush against his body.

She could feel all of him against her, she realized blissfully. There were probably things she could be doing, some way she was supposed to know how to move, but she found herself unable to do anything but cling to him. Spike was wearing a tender expression as he recaptured her lips and she felt his cock slide through the slickness between her thighs, guided by his hand. It started nudging insistently at her opening, and then pushed inside. Buffy gasped at the unfamiliar stretch, causing Spike to pause. He brushed her hair back, his breath coming short and fast. “Alright?”

Buffy shifted, sliding her leg over his thigh and biting her lip as she felt him move deeper inside of her. “Yes,” she whispered. She wondered if she was supposed to say something else, but Spike was already moving again. It felt like she was tumbling over a cliff without any idea of where she would land. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of him inside of her. It was everything she wanted and nothing like she imagined it would be.

One of his hands dropped to her bottom. “God, Buffy, you’re amazing” His voice was hoarse. Buffy pulled him into a kiss as his cock slowly filled her. Everything was so new, so unexpected, and she couldn’t stop touching him. She’d never felt so close to anyone, like he was entering more than just that part of her. Her heart swelled as Spike’s hips pressed against hers, his fingers clutching her behind so tightly she wondered if she’d have evidence that this had happened tomorrow. “Okay?” he murmured against her lips.

Buffy nodded, unable to find her voice. A moment later Spike was moving again, his cock sliding in and out of her core with short, hard strokes. Buffy gasped and clutched at his shoulders as he thrust. He was murmuring things she couldn’t quite catch into her hair as she dug her fingers into his back and wondered if she might be leaving a few marks on him as well. He didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, shifting them so that she was on her back and he could prop himself over her.

She couldn’t seem to catch her breath as he moved, his cock buried deep inside of her and causing all-new sensations that she seemed to be able to feel from her toes to the ends of her hair. His hand slid around her hip to her front and rubbed that perfect spot, making Buffy arch up against him. It was almost too much, his lips on her throat, his hands on her body, and his cock filling her again and again while he whispered endearments in a low, rough voice. Buffy grasped the bedsheets and cried out, bowing up off the bed as another pulsing wave of pleasure crashed over her and knocked the breath from her lungs entirely.

Spike didn’t stop, picking up his pace and continuing to thrust deep inside of her until she felt his entire body quiver and his breath hitch. Buffy clung to him as he shuddered, her name tumbling from his lips. He finally relaxed again, gently kissing her lips as he separated himself from her and rolled to one side, pulling her close. Buffy couldn’t tear her eyes from Spike’s face, trying to memorize every tiny detail of this moment so she could lock it away and keep it in her heart forever. He was watching her too, his brow furrowed slightly as he caught his breath.

He brushed her hair back from her face. “Alright, kitten?”

Buffy leaned in to kiss him softly, her body still humming. “Yes,” she murmured. She was more than alright, she was soaring. Is this what it felt like to love someone? To be free and tethered at the same time? She shivered and Spike pulled her quilt over the top of them, tucking it in around her before his hands resumed stroking the bare skin of her behind.

“I keep thinking I’m going to wake up,” Spike whispered in her ear. “And find I’ve made you up entirely.”

Buffy snuggled closer to his chest. “I’ll be right here.” The place between her legs ached a bit, but she didn’t mind, not when it made her feel so content.

“Don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Spike’s voice was tender and melancholy.

Buffy tilted her head up so she could see his face. “You let me dream.”


	18. Why Do Fools Fall in Love

Buffy woke up slowly, floating through half-remembered snippets of good dreams. Something was different, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what. She snuggled further under the covers, breathing in the scent of—her eyes popped open. Spike. Buffy stared for a moment, unable to move as she drank in the sight of him. He was sprawled across her small bed, his arm slung over her waist and his face pressed against her shoulder. Her bare shoulder.

She cautiously wiggled a little, trying to see if she could free herself from his grasp without waking him. Her hair must be a complete mess, and she wasn’t wearing so much as a cute pajama set. She paused. Although she didn’t remember him changing into pajamas either, which meant…Buffy slowly lifted the covers enough to see he wasn’t wearing anything at all before a squeak escaped her and her face heated up. She hastily let the covers fall again as Spike stirred, mumbling something against her skin before kissing her arm absently. She couldn’t help but smile at that.

The whole house was quiet, reminding her that they were alone and there was no reason to rush this moment. She was a new woman this morning, no longer an inexperienced schoolgirl but someone who knew what it was like to share your entire self with someone special. All those years of waiting were worth it, in the end, to know that Spike would be the one ingrained in her memories of this moment instead of Riley.

Buffy reached up and gently brushed a stray curl away from Spike’s forehead. The sunlight filtering in through the windows made his hair look blonder that it really was. His face was relaxed in sleep, with none of the worry lines she’d seen so often lately. She wished she could keep his worries at bay forever, instead of adding to them. She could almost see the child he must have been, and spent a moment indulging in the fantasy of seeing his features reflected in a child of their own. But he’d made her no promises, and she hadn’t asked any of him. It was just another silly dream, one she decided to tuck close to her heart for safekeeping.

She realized Spike would probably be waking up soon, so Buffy started to slide out from under the covers. She’d just wrap her quilt around herself and sneak off to get her hair in order and maybe put on a little mascara. The robe she kept in the bathroom would have to do until she could get dressed. She’d barely moved before Spike’s eyes were blinking open.

“Morning,” he rumbled, his voice low and rough. His arm tightened around her waist for a second, pulling her back snug against him. Buffy reached up nervously and tried to untangle her disastrous curls when he kept his eyes firmly trained on her instead of going back to sleep or climbing out of bed.

“Good morning,” she squeaked out, knowing she was blushing.

Spike reached up and pulled her hand away from her hair. “You look gorgeous, kitten.” He guided her hand down to his hip and leaned in, taking Buffy by surprise. She blinked as his lips landed on hers before her eyes slid closed of their own accord and she relaxed against him. Her hand slid across his bare bottom and a thrill run through her at her daring. Spike groaned low in his throat and she could feel his hardness pressing against her thigh. His fingers crept down and rubbed between her legs, making her gasp as she felt her body begin to respond.

“I…” Whatever she was going to say flew from her mind as his fingers pushed inside of her and his lips caressed her throat. His touch seemed gentler this morning, as though all the urgency from last night had been transformed into tenderness. Buffy’s breaths were short and shallow as he moved his fingers in and out of her core, igniting a spark in her lower belly. “But it’s morning,” she finally managed.

Spike hummed against her skin, his kisses dipping lower until his mouth was closing around one of her sensitive nipples. His tongue had it standing to attention before he pulled back. “I noticed,” he mumbled as he kissed his way to her other breast. “You have plans?”

She was having trouble focusing on anything other than the feel of his fingers stroking inside of her. Her hips were moving in a rhythm she recognized from last night, when he’d made her feel like no one else ever had. She clutched his behind tightly with one hand. “No?” she answered faintly, hoping it was an appropriate answer to the question she couldn’t remember.

The sun was streaming in through the bedroom window and lighting up the dust motes in the air above her bed as Spike’s fingers slipped from her channel and were replaced with the head of his cock. Spike pushed inside of her, his lips seeking out hers once more. Buffy moaned when he began to move, picking up the same rhythm she’d just been using as he made her whole body come alive. 

All her thoughts of whether or not these kinds of things should be left to the darkness of nighttime fled as she lost herself in the feel of him inside of her.

***

The mirror was still clouded over from her shower as she started brushing her hair, so the sudden kiss dropped onto her collarbone made her jump. “Just me, kitten,” Spike’s amused voice said in her ear. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t drown in here.” He took the brush from her and ran it through her hair a few times as Buffy sighed happily. “You hungry?”

As if it’d been waiting for its cue, Buffy’s stomach rumbled, making her blush. “A little.”

Spike chuckled and handed her back the brush. He was just wearing his jeans and undershirt, his feet bare. Buffy wondered if this was what he wore when he relaxed at home. She imagined him stretching out on a couch wearing nothing but a pair of jeans while he read a book. Maybe he’d read it aloud while she cuddled up beside him, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

“Alright if I get breakfast started?” Spike sounded as though he expected her to object, and Buffy quickly put the brush down and turned to face him.

“Oh, you’re hungry too! I’m sorry, I can make…” She frantically tried to think of what was in the fridge. Should she attempt pancakes? They took a while but she’d gotten pretty good at not burning them.

Spike furrowed his brow. “I’ll find something,” he said. “You cooked last night, and I’ve had to fend for myself long enough that I’ve picked up a few tricks.” Buffy stared at him for a minute, confused. He hadn’t been hinting he wanted her to cook breakfast?

“Okay,” she finally replied lamely, unable to think of what else to say. None of her mother’s magazines had covered this situation. “I’ll, um, be down in a minute?”

“Sounds good.” Spike leaned in and kissed her quickly before leaving her staring after him with the brush dangling from her fingers. She turned back to the slowly-clearing mirror and decided she could forgo her blusher today, if she was going to turn this color every time Spike was in the same room. She couldn’t stop smiling.

***

Taking a deep breath, Buffy paused just outside the kitchen doorway and listened to Spike banging through the cupboards. It really did sound like he was cooking. She hadn’t expected this at all. She was certain that Riley had never planned on lifting a finger to help her in the kitchen. She smoothed down the skirt she was wearing, one with a myriad of blues in a flower pattern that had caught her eye this morning. She’d forgone a petticoat at all, letting the fabric skim along her thighs down to her knees. And she’d made sure to pick a pale blue blouse with lots of buttons.

Her bare feet hardly made a sound as she stepped into the kitchen. It looked cleaner than how they’d left it last night, and a pile of washed dishes was drying next to the sink. Spike was manning a pan on the stove. His entire face lit up when he saw her, making her heart skip a beat. “Hope eggs are alright.” His expression turned slightly sheepish. “Don’t have a lot of range in this department.”

Buffy crossed to the stove and went up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Sounds perfect.” She checked the pan and noticed his eggs were setting up without the crispy edges hers usually ended up with. She frowned. “How are you doing that?”

“Hm?” Spike asked, his eyes lifting from where he’d been peeking down the front of her blouse. “Doing what?”

“Making the eggs not get burny?”

“Ah, that.” Spike pulled her in close, nestling her back against his chest and kissing the shell of her ear, making her shiver. “Low flame and lots of butter, kitten. Want to give it a whirl?” His voice was a deep purr. Buffy managed a nod as he handed over his spatula and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. Buffy carefully stirred the eggs, determined not to let them stick, and leaned back into his embrace. Spike tucked his nose against the side of her neck like he was breathing her in. “Perfect,” he murmured against her skin. She wasn’t sure if he was talking about her or the eggs, but as long as his arms were around her, she didn’t really care.

It was hard to concentrate when all she wanted to do was spin around and kiss him breathless, but she wanted to get this right even more. The quiet sizzle of the eggs in the pan was the only sound until the sound of toast popping made her jump.

“Forgot about that.” Spike’s hands slid down to caress her bottom before he stepped away to take care of the buttering. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, marveling at how easily he’d seemed to slide into her life, turning it upside down and right side up at the same time.

The eggs were done a minute later and Buffy dished them up, noting happily that they hadn’t a bit of black in them. She held them aloft triumphantly.  “Ta-da!” 

Spike grinned at her as he slid several pieces of toast onto the plate, putting his other arm around her waist and drawing her close enough to kiss. His lips were soft and she could taste a hint of butter, like he’d snuck a bite of something while she’d been preoccupied. Buffy was a bit breathless when he pulled away, though his hand stayed firmly on her backside. “Anything else, kitten?”

“I don’t think so?” Buffy said dazedly before carefully setting the eggs on the counter next to her and wrapping her arms around his neck so she could kiss him again. She heard him make a noise like a contented growl as he opened his mouth to her teasing tongue, both of his hands now gripping her bottom tightly. She slipped her hands under his shirt so she could caress his skin. It still amazed her that she’d had the courage to touch him this way, not to mention the fact that he welcomed it.

His warm breath washed across her ear as he kissed a path up her jawline. “Your breakfast is going to get cold,” he murmured.

Buffy’s fingers stilled as she remembered the work he’d put into making this for her. She pulled back a little, meeting his eyes. “Sorry.” She found herself reluctant to separate herself from him, knowing this morning was a precious thing that wouldn’t be repeated anytime soon. Spike seemed to read her mind, grabbing the plate of eggs and two forks off the counter while keeping a hand on her hip to steer them both towards the dining room. Buffy found herself perched on his lap a moment later. She laughed as he politely handed her a fork, his arm snug around her middle. “I have to share?”

“Sorry, kitten, chef’s rules.” She felt him nip at her earlobe, causing her whole body to shudder. She nearly dropped her fork. Spike made a happy noise in her ear as he tried the food, and she attempted to follow suit. The eggs were delicious, and the toast a perfect accompaniment, but she kept finding herself distracted by Spike’s hand slowly stroking her thigh, and the feel of his chest against her back.

After a few minutes, she realized he was no longer eating either. One of his hands had managed to pull her skirt up high enough so his fingers were stroking along her inner thigh. The other was tugging on the open collar of her blouse while his lips skated along the side of her neck down towards her shoulder. Buffy trembled and abruptly set down her fork as he slowly undid the topmost fastening of her shirt, exposing more of her cleavage than the three buttons she’d already left undone.

“Seems a shame to cover up such loveliness,” he said huskily, his fingers undoing another button. The hand under her skirt slid up towards her center, and she felt him toying with the edge of her panties. Her breaths were short and shallow, making her chest heave as he exposed her underthings right there at the breakfast table. Her head fell back against his shoulder as she surrendered herself to his touch, wondering dazedly if there was anyone in the world as lucky as she was, having found a man like him.

“Spike,” Buffy felt almost dizzy, her mind was whirling so fast. The only thing she was certain of was that she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. “I-”

The phone rang shrilly, interrupting her. Spike was sucking on her earlobe and fumbling with the clasp of her bra. “Ignore it,” he growled.

Buffy didn’t want to move, but… “It might be my mother,” she explained helplessly. 

Spike heaved a sigh and left off trying to undress her, though his hand was still cupping her covered breast. “Alright.” He sounded so disappointed she couldn’t help but smile.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Spike’s grin was amused as she slid from his lap and headed for the foyer. She picked up the receiver, cutting off the shrill ring, and turned to peek at Spike.

“Hello?”

“Yes, hello, is this Miss Buffy Summers?” The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Buffy was a little distracted. Spike had propped his head up on one hand with his elbow on the tabletop, pouting at her from across the room.

“Speaking.”  Buffy bit her lip to hide her smile and slowly began to pull up one side of her skirt, exposing more of her leg. Spike’s eyes narrowed, avidly following the hem of her skirt as it inched up, and she let out a giggle.

The person on the other end sighed. “May I speak to William, please?”

Buffy fumbled the receiver, almost dropping it before clutching it tightly with both hands and glancing at Spike in a panic. “Who?” she squeaked. Her heart was beating so quickly it felt like it was trying to take flight. Spike got up from the table, a frown on his face. Buffy waved him away frantically, as though the person on the other end of the line would be able to see him if he got too close.

“William Pratt,” the man said stiffly through the receiver. “Tell him it’s Rupert Giles, please.”

Buffy thought she might pass out. The Dean was calling her house looking for Spike on a Sunday morning? She was going to be expelled. Spike was going to lose his job. “I, um, I think you have the wrong number,” Buffy said weakly. “There’s no William here.”

Spike’s eyes went very wide and he strode across the room, reaching her side a moment later. Buffy shook her head at him, close to tears. ‘Giles,’ she mouthed. All the color drained from his face. She reached out and laid her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating as rapidly as hers.

“Please, Miss Summers.” The Dean’s voice was weary, but gentle. “Let’s not continue this charade. It’s important that I speak with him.”

Spike reached for the phone and Buffy reluctantly handed it over. Her entire world was crumbling before her very eyes. “Yeah,” Spike said resignedly into the receiver. He reached out and pulled Buffy close, his arm sliding across her shoulders as she buried her face against his chest. “What?” His grip tightened around her. “Those little…yeah, I’ll be there shortly. How bad is it?” Buffy looked up anxiously. “Sure, thanks Rupes.” Spike leaned over and hung up the phone before putting his other arm around her. They stood together for a long minute.

“You have to go?” Buffy asked, hoping her voice was muffled enough that he couldn’t hear how worried she was.

“Yeah, kitten. I’m sorry.”

She lifted her head so she could see him, anxiously searching his face. “Are you in trouble?” she whispered. “Did I…”

 Spike shook his head. “No, no, nothing to do with you, just bad timing. Someone broke into my office, tossed things about. I’ve got to go make sure nothing’s gone missing.” He brushed a lock of her hair back from her face. “Rupes has got his hands full enough, dealing with the mess I’ve made of the football program, no doubt he’ll pretend this never happened.” Spike gave her a rueful smile. “Wish he’d called a little later though.” He bent to kiss her, making Buffy’s toes curl.

“How did he…”

Spike gave her his secret-smile. “Not many things I’ve shown an interest in since I’ve arrived, besides you, kitten.”

His admission made Buffy’s stomach butterflies take flight. She couldn’t bear it if he left and never knew how she felt about him, even if he did decide she was too much trouble to bother with. “Spike, I…I’m glad,” she stuttered, her courage faltering.

Spike sighed and loosened his hold on her. “I would have loved to spend all day with you, Buffy.” His fingers slid down the open vee of her blouse, dipping into her cleavage and making her nipples stand at attention under the fabric. “Showing you exactly how much I enjoy your company.” His voice was low and husky, and Buffy had to take several deep breaths before she could find her voice.

“We’ll just…we’ll just have to do it again,” she said breathlessly.

Spike grinned at her. “Next week maybe? Let me take out of Sunnydale and show you off a bit.”

Buffy felt her answering smile grow so wide it nearly hurt. “I’d like that.”

“Me too.” Spike kissed her quickly before stepping back and heading up the stairs for the rest of his clothes.

Buffy watched him go, hoping it wouldn’t be only time she got to see him this relaxed. She turned to clear the table, no longer hungry, and was just finishing up the breakfast dishes when Spike came back into the kitchen. He was fully dressed and his hair was tidied, though Buffy decided she liked it better when it was a little messy. She missed him already and he hadn’t even left yet. At least she’d get to see him in class.

“Thanks for dinner, kitten.” Spike cupped the back of her head with one hand, his fingers tangling in her hair while he kissed her deeply and she melted against him. “And everything else.” His eyes were steady on hers. “I’m sorry I have to go.”

“Me too,” Buffy whispered, smoothing down his wrinkled shirt. “Thank you for…everything.” She gazed up at him, her heart beating double time as he pulled away and headed for the back porch. “Spike?”

He paused halfway out the door. “Yeah?”

“I love you,” she blurted.

He didn’t move, seemingly frozen in the doorway. The bright sunlight made it harder to see his features Buffy’s heart leapt into her throat as she stood rooted to the floor. He crossed the kitchen to where she was standing almost before she could blink, and his lips were crushed against hers without warning. She squeaked in surprise and he took advantage of her open mouth to deepen the kiss before pulling back. “ _And the day returns too soon_ ,” he said, sounding as out of breath as she was. Then he was gone.

Buffy stared at the kitchen door and wished she could go back and live last night all over again.


	19. Honeycomb

“Earth to Buffy!” Willow’s hand was waving two inches from Buffy’s nose. They were walking across campus towards their class, and Buffy realized that instead of listening to her friend she’d been daydreaming about finding Spike waiting for her with a bottle of champagne and train tickets to New York.  

“Hm? Oh, sorry Willow, what were you saying?”

Willow lifted her eyebrows. “I think we’ll save that for later. How was your weekend? I never heard from you and I thought your parents were going out of town?”

Buffy felt her cheeks heat up. “Um, they did. Sorry I didn’t call.”

“Is everything okay? You look like you’re feeling better.” Willow waited expectantly, but Buffy just fussed with some invisible lint on her pale blue blouse. Spike had really enjoyed undoing the buttons of this one before they’d been rather rudely interrupted over the weekend, so she’d decided to wear it for him today. She’d paired it with a gray plaid skirt that she’d hemmed up so it ended just above her knees, and black flats. Willow’s eyes had widened when they’d met up this morning, but otherwise she hadn’t said a word about Buffy’s new, more daring approach to fashion.

While Willow knew about the professor now, Buffy was a little hesitant to tell her just how serious it’d gotten. It was all happening so fast, even though it felt like time slowed to a crawl when he wasn’t around. She wasn’t sure how her friend would react, especially since Buffy didn’t have any kind of understanding with Spike like she’d had with Riley. Maybe she’d test the waters after class. “I’m much better.” She nudged Willow. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

“We’re early, Buffy. Besides, I thought you…” her voice trailed off and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I didn’t see you after you had that meeting with the professor. Did everything go okay?”

“Yes?” Buffy hedged as they reached the classroom door. “I’ll tell you later.”

Spike was already there, leaning back against the desk next to a neat pile of papers held down by his gray hat. One of the other students was talking to him and he didn’t notice Buffy at first, letting her drink in the sight of him. Willow didn’t seem to realize Buffy had stopped, continuing on toward the desk, and Spike.

He was wearing a dark gray suit and a white shirt with the blue tie she remembered from their first meeting. The one that’d led to her touching him that very first time, when it’d seemed like he’d lit fuses under her skin. She knew now what those fireworks were a prelude to and Buffy wanted nothing more than to walk over and kiss him so that everyone would know he was hers.

A piece of paper suddenly blocked her view. “Here,” Willow said. “It’s the handout.” She leaned in closer. “You’re staring,” she whispered. Spike caught sight of them at that moment, his eyes dropping to halfmast as his gaze trailed down Buffy’s legs and then up to her face. His smile had a touch of something dangerous in it and she almost forgot for a moment that they weren’t alone.

“Miss Summers,” he said, almost drawling her name. “And Miss Rosenburg.”

“Hello,” Buffy breathed, looking up at him from under her lashes.

“Hi, Professor,” Willow replied, tugging on Buffy’s elbow. “Come on, Buffy.”  

“What?” Buffy asked absently, looking over her shoulder at Spike. He was sneaking peeks at her as she walked away, she was certain of it.

“Oh boy,” Willow exhaled as she steered them to their usual seats halfway up in the lecture hall. “Sit down before you run into something.”

Buffy sat obediently, propping her chin on one hand and watching Spike greet the other students coming into class. He’d moved around the desk to sit in the chair and his fingers were tapping a cigarette absently against the wooden desktop. His eyes darted in her direction after every hello. Buffy crossed her legs and felt her skirt ride up higher on her thigh, though it was probably barely visible over the seatback in front of her. She sighed. Maybe they should have sat in the front row.

She was just about to suggest to Willow that they move when she heard her friend make a confused noise. Buffy tore her gaze from Spike and glanced beside her. “What?”

Willow was flipping through the pages of her notebook, her brow furrowed. “This wasn’t in the syllabus.”

“What wasn’t?” Buffy picked up her neglected handout and read the title of the first poem printed on the page: _So We’ll Go No More A Roving_. “These poems?”

“Yeah,” Willow sounded frustrated. “I read all of _Leaves of Grass_ this weekend! I even told Tara I couldn’t…” she trailed of, flushing slightly. “I mean, I didn’t even go down to the soda shop.”

“Maybe we can go after classes,” Buffy said absently, her eyes skimming over the words on the page in front of her. A line near the end leapt out at her, and she caught her breath. Oh. She lifted her gaze and saw Spike fiddling nervously with the end of his tie as he stood and cleared his throat.

“Change of plans, today,” Spike announced. He tapped a cigarette absently on the desk before sticking it between his lips and lighting it while he surveyed the quieting room. “Someone mistook my office for the library over the weekend and rearranged all my books.” A group of students on the other side of the room tittered. “Haven’t located my Whitman yet, but I did find a few old favorites.” His eyes drifted over towards Buffy and she smiled brilliantly. This one was for her. “Let’s begin.”

Willow slumped back in her seat as a student haltingly began reciting the first stanza. “This is just stupid love poetry,” she grumbled.

Buffy wondered if she was actually floating or it just felt like it. “I think it’s beautiful,” she whispered.

Another student finished their part, and the professor leaned back against his desk. “Miss Summers?” She loved to hear him say her name. Buffy stood and smoothed down her shortened skirt.

“ _Though the night was made for loving and the days return too soon, yet we'll go no more a roving by the light of the moon_ ,” she read, her voice calm and clear. She could hear him whispering those words to her while the morning sun streamed into the kitchen.

There was a long moment of silence as he gazed at her and Buffy bit her lip, feeling warmth bloom in her chest just behind her ribcage. Maybe he hadn’t said he loved her, but she was special enough to get her own poem. Someone tugged on her arm. “Buffy,” Willow hissed under her breath. “Sit down.”

Buffy reluctantly sat, wanting more than ever to walk up to Spike and kiss him breathless. Willow was staring at her with narrowed eyes. “Oh my god, this is because of you, isn’t it?” her friend accused in a whisper.

The memory of the adoring way Spike had looked at her when they’d made love flashed through Buffy’s mind. “I think so,” she murmured, unable to stop smiling.

***

“Okay, seriously, Buffy, what’s going on with you and,” Willow lowered her voice to a whisper, “the professor?” Her friend had finally cornered her after classes and they were on their way across campus to get Tara from the library and then head to the soda shop.

To Buffy’s disappointment, she hadn’t been able to sneak in a moment alone with Spike all day. She’d passed by his office a few times but the door had been firmly shut and no one had answered her knock. That was probably wise, considering at least half the student body blamed him for the disastrous football game over the weekend. Even Buffy had winced when she’d overheard the final score. Still, she’d wanted to thank him for her poem.

Buffy let out a sigh that sounded besotted even to her ears, making her blush. “Um, we might have had another date.”

Willow slowed her steps, looking over in surprise. “Really? Even though…” She glanced around, but the quad was quiet for the moment. “Even though he could get into trouble?”

Not bothering to tamp down on her smile, Buffy nodded. “We had dinner.”

“Here in Sunnydale? What if someone saw you?” Willow sounded alarmed.

“No one saw us. We were, uh, at my house.”

Willow stopped walking completely, turning to face Buffy with a look of surprise. “At your…you had a date at your house while your parents were out of town?” Willow asked. Buffy nodded, more hesitantly this time. “Wow,” Willow breathed. “Buffy, that’s…you are really not conforming to societal norms at all anymore, are you? You’ve got it bad.”

Ducking her head, Buffy decided to expand on the weekend a little further, since it seemed like Willow wasn’t terribly disappointed in her. “He, um, he spent the night.”

Willow’s eyes were almost perfectly round, they were so wide. “He…at your house?” she hissed.

Buffy hugged her books tightly to her chest, her heart pounding. “Yes?”

“You…” Willow’s jaw dropped. “Oh my goodness, Buffy. You did, didn’t you?” Her friend leaned in, her eyes bright and curious. “How was it? Are you okay?”

“Am I…?” Buffy blinked, startled. “I’m fine. Better than fine, actually.” She let out another dreamy sigh. “He was…it was amazing.”

“Really?” Willow sounded doubtful. “Well, that’s good. It’s good, right?”

“Very good,” Buffy assured her.

Willow let out a giggle, her cheeks turning pink. “You’re a regular rebel lately!”

Nudging her friend with an elbow, Buffy started walking in the direction of the library again. “Well, I had a great role model.” Willow beamed and hurried to keep up with her.

“But, uh, you’re going to be…careful, right, Buffy? I mean, the patriarchy still totally frowns on having babies outside of marriage. Which stinks because it’s not like a woman can get pregnant by herself!” Willow huffed in annoyance.   

For a moment, Buffy was struck by the thought that Riley had wanted her to give up this friendship, and thanked her lucky stars that she would never be marrying him. How much lonelier would her life have been without Willow in it? She reached out and pulled her friend into a fierce, one armed hug. “Thanks, Wills.”

Willow let out a strangled ‘oof’ before gently patting Buffy on the back. “Um, for what?”

Buffy let her go and wiped at her suddenly watering eyes. “Being a good friend. And don’t worry, after the first time I made sure to do the hot water thing in the shower afterwards.”

Willow patted her arm. “Good.” She smiled broadly. “You’re really happy, aren’t you?”

“Very.” Buffy grinned back and waved at Tara as the other girl came hurrying across the quad, her blonde hair pulled back away from her face in a new style Buffy hadn’t seen before. Willow seemed to be good for Tara, too. Willow lit up as Tara approached and Buffy’s heart felt so full she thought it might burst.

A moment later, someone clipped her shoulder and Buffy turned to apologize, but the words died in her throat. It was the dark-haired head cheerleader, Sam, and she was smirking in a way that didn’t bode well. 

“Oops, sorry,” Sam said insincerely. “I didn’t see you there.” The cheerleader ostentatiously straightened out the too-big letterman jacket she was wearing. Buffy recognized the number on it as Riley’s. Boy, he really didn’t waste any time. She hoped Sam liked to cook. “I’d say sorry to hear about you and Ri, but we both know you never deserved him in the first place,” Sam added.

“Hey!” Willow said in an outraged tone.

Buffy just regarded Sam quietly. She wondered how often Riley must have been with this girl when he’d said he was too busy for Buffy, and felt a little bit sorry for Sam. No matter how he’d convinced her to keep things quiet, it must have hurt to see him with Buffy every day. The more she learned about Riley, the less she felt like she’d ever really known him.

The cheerleader narrowed her eyes and tugged at the jacket hem again, like she thought Buffy might have missed her obvious taunting. Finally, Buffy shrugged. “Good luck.”

Sam snorted. “Please, you’re the one who couldn’t hang onto him.”

Buffy put one hand on her hip and pursed her lips in irritation. All of her compassion fled. “I didn’t want to hang onto him!”

“There’s no need to fib.” Sam smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “I’ve been listening to him moan about what a burden you were for months. Did you really think he was going to stay with some boring little nobody when he could have anyone he wants?” She tossed her hair. “When those dumb accusations against him get dropped, he’ll take us all the way to the championship and then he can write a ticket to anywhere.” She leaned in close to Buffy. “And I’ll be the girl on his arm, just like it should have been this whole time.”

“He cheated,” Buffy said coolly.

“Apparently in more ways than one,” Willow muttered beside her. Buffy felt another surge of affection for her friend. Thank goodness she’d already figured out Riley wasn’t the man for her, or this bimbo’s words might actually have hurt.

“The professor wouldn’t clear Riley just for a football game,” Buffy added.

“Maybe he won’t have a choice,” Sam said smugly. “Enjoy spinsterhood.” She turned on her heel and headed off, her head held high and her long hair swishing across the back of Riley’s jacket.

Buffy stood frozen in place. “Willow,” she whispered worriedly. “You don’t think…”

“Um,” Tara said hesitantly. “I overheard something today about Professor Pratt, if that’s who we’re talking about.”

Buffy spun to face Willow’s companion. “What did you hear?”

Tara wrung her hands and Willow moved a little closer to her, gently placing her hand on the other girl’s back. “That he might be trying to introduce communist literature to his students?” Tara winced as though she was waiting for a blow but Buffy’s shoulders sagged in relief.

“Is that all? They think everyone’s a communist sympathizer nowadays.” Buffy waved a dismissive hand, her racing heart back under control. She could warn Spike later, but in the meantime it seemed their secret was safe. Still, it didn’t look like she was going to be moving to New York to nurse a broken heart anytime soon, and she really did want to get her degree now that Riley wasn’t insisting she quit school to keep house. Maybe Dr. Giles could help them figure something out.

Willow pulled her hand away from Tara reluctantly. Buffy could certainly sympathize with that. Every moment she was near the professor without being allowed to touch him made her ache. She stepped forward and looped her arm through Tara’s, earning a startled glance from the other girl. “Let’s go get malts,” she said firmly, waiting for Willow. Her friend shifted her books to one side and took Tara’s other arm, looking much happier. Tara had flushed a delicate shade of pink and was smiling softly.

“Lead the way, Buffy,” Willow replied cheerfully.

***

Xander didn’t greet them like he usually did, but Buffy supposed he could be forgiven, since Anya was sitting at the counter and commanding his attention. Xander’s expression was one of ecstatic disbelief, like he could hardly believe she was there in front of him. It was really pretty cute. Buffy sat on a stool next to Anya, with Tara and Willow following her lead. They settled in to wait. Buffy propped her chin on her hand, watching as Anya finished giggling and Xander finally blinked.

“Hey, Xander.” Buffy gave a little wave. “Malts all around?”

Xander looked at the three newcomers in confusion. “Wait, when did you guys get here?”

Tara hid her smile behind her hand but Willow laughed outright. “I think you were a little distracted. Hey, Anya, nice to see you. Everyone, this is my friend, Tara.” Tara gave a timid wave and Xander stuck out his hand.

“Xander, provider of malts,” he said solemnly.

“One malt please, provider!” Buffy sang out.

Xander narrowed his eyes. “Are you actually going to drink it this time? You know, a guy could get a complex the way you keep rushing out of here.”

Buffy held up her hand. “Scout’s honor. We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?” Xander asked curiously, pulling out three tall glasses. Buffy glanced at Willow, and her friend gave her a tiny, knowing smile.

“Oh, just happiness.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Anya announced, lifting her half-empty malt glass. “I’m very happy to watch Xander’s behind while he works.”

Xander flushed bright red while the rest of the girls giggled. Anya leaned closer to Buffy. “Speaking of behinds, I heard you got rid of one recently?”

“Ahn!” Xander hissed, looking stricken.

Buffy was very glad she didn’t have a malt yet, since she was pretty sure it would have gone down the wrong pipe at Anya’s words. “Um, I guess so?”

“I’m sorry, he totally didn’t give off that jerk vibe or I would have warned you,” Anya said solemnly.

“You know Riley?” Buffy asked, bewildered.

“That’s the name of the guy with the big black car? Boy, he sure doesn’t look like a Riley.”

“The guy with…” Buffy took a breath. “Oh! Oh, no, that was…that wasn’t Riley. That was, um, someone else I know.” She tried not to blush too obviously as Xander lifted his eyebrows and glanced at Willow.

“Oh, good.” Anya beamed at her. “He seemed very nice, and obviously interested in you. You should see if he’s available.”

Xander thumped three malts onto the counter, his face still red. “Here you go!” he said in a loud, cheerful voice. “So, how about that football game, huh? I heard they were down to third stringers and a couple of guys who hadn’t made the cut during tryouts.”

“What kind of car does this Riley person drive?” Anya asked, frowning slightly. “Does he come to the drive-in?”

“Um, a blue Bel Air?” Buffy replied, taking a sip of her malt. It was amazing, as always. She shot Xander a grateful smile and he relaxed a little. “He’s definitely been to the drive-in a few times. He was probably with his football buddies. He’s the quarterback.”

Anya wrinkled her nose. “Big hulk of a guy with a brown flattop that screams ‘my-daddy-was-G.I.’?”

Willow put a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles as Buffy let out a surprised laugh. “Um, yeah, that sounds like him.”

“Oh.” Anya’s brow furrowed and she looked at Xander, who shrugged helplessly. “Well, I’m glad you’re not going steady with that meathead anymore.” She reached over and patted the back of Buffy’s hand. “You deserve way, way better.”

Buffy sighed. “Yeah, I think I’ve figured that out, especially after his new girlfriend pretty much just told me he’d been messing around behind my back.”

“What!” Xander put his hands on his hips, sounding indignant. “That…that total germ! I knew I’d seen him goofing around a few times with some of the after-game crowd, but I never thought he’d actually…shoot, Buffy. I’m sorry.” Xander looked ashamed, like he’d somehow let her down.

“I’m fine,” Buffy told him firmly. “And I should have come to my senses earlier, I just didn’t…” Her mind wandered for a moment, thinking of how wide the whole world had become since she’d met Spike. Like everything was suddenly possible, instead of so many things being off-limits. “I didn’t know things could be any different,” she finished.

Tara was gazing at her sympathetically. “It’s not easy to go against the grain when everyone expects things to be a certain way,” she said quietly. Buffy didn’t miss the way her eyes darted towards Willow.

“Well, now that you’ve gotten rid of that dunderhead you’re free to see that other guy!” Anya said cheerfully.

“Ahn.” Xander looked skeptical. “I really don’t think Buffy’s interested in her professor, you know, like that.” Buffy felt her face flush.

“Ooh, he’s a professor?” Anya asked enthusiastically. “A very economically sound choice! I prefer nice, go-getting entrepreneur types, myself. More experimental in other areas of life, if you know what I mean.” She winked exaggeratedly, making Xander drop the handful of clean spoons he was putting away.

Willow choked on her malt, coughing a few times as Tara patted her back in concern. Buffy lifted her eyebrows as Xander scrambled around on the floor to recover the silverware and Anya watched him unabashedly, finished off her malt. “Well, that’s…good to know,” Buffy finally said lamely. “Thank you.”

Anya beamed at her. “You’re welcome. Although I think that particular one might surprise you. He didn’t seem like much of a square.”

Xander dropped his head onto his hand and groaned loudly. Willow was staring straight ahead at the wall, her mouth twitching like she was trying very hard not to smile.

Buffy gulped down a bit of her malt to cool down the blush she knew she was sporting before she replied. “I think you might be right.”

Xander dropped all the spoons again.

***

PRESENT DAY

“Maybe Buffy won’t be mad if she has a dream like last time,” Anya suggested, holding out her tumbler for more scotch. Willow almost missed the glass, but managed to fill it partway without spilling too much.

“I’m pretty sure she’s going to be mad,” Tara said, and then immediately started giggling. “Do you think she’ll drag Riley around by his shirt some more? That was really funny.”

“What do you mean a dream like last time?” Willow asked, sounding bewildered. “She never talked about her first dream.”

Anya lifted her eyebrows. “She did with me.”

Willow gasped and thunked the bottle of scotch on a side table. “What? But I’m her best friend!” Her mouth turned down and her eyes got watery as Tara patted her arm and made soothing noises. “Why would she tell you about it and not me? I asked her tons of times!”

Anya shrugged and sipped her drink, looking thoughtful. “I think she mostly just wanted to talk about how cute Spike looked in a cowboy hat.”

Willow immediately made a moue of disgust.  

“And she probably knew you’d make that face,” Anya continued.

Willow tried to rearrange her expression without much success. “Well, it’s Spike! She’s not supposed to…you know, think about him like that.”

“Too late now,” Anya observed. “She probably thinks about him like that a lot.”

Willow sighed glumly. “The spell wasn’t supposed to show her that kind of stuff, I swear.” 

“Unless the two people involved would work out in real life, right?” Anya asked.

Willow frowned. “Well, yeah, but…” she trailed off and grabbed the scotch bottle again to refill her glass.

Tara hid a smile behind her hand. “Did Buffy tell you what it was like?” she asked Anya.

“Apparently it was like that movie Xander insists we watch every year about the annoying girl who loses her dog and is very biased against alternative dimension dwellers.”

There was a long moment of perplexed silence.

“Oh!” Willow sat straight up on the couch. “The Wizard of Oz?” She looked at Anya for confirmation.

Anya nodded enthusiastically before continuing, “At least he was willing to adapt, I have no idea why they’re so rude to him,” Anya sniffed. “Buffy said we were all in the dream, just in different roles. Oh, and it was the old west. I ran a brothel!”

“Of course you did,” Willow grumbled, slumping back again.

“I thought you said you hit Spike with the spell first?” Tara asked her girlfriend. 

“I did!” Willow said earnestly. “It was supposed to show him that his creepy vampire fantasies about Buffy would never come true.”

“But-” Tara rested her head against Willow’s shoulder. “It sounds like Spike was a cowboy instead. Why would he dream about that?”

“I have no idea,” Anya replied, glancing over to where the subjects of their conversation were still curled up together in a chair. “But Buffy certainly appreciated it.”


	20. Blue Hawaii

Nervously, Buffy rechecked her lipstick in the mirror over her dresser. It was a nice medium pink shade, not too bright and not too pale, called ‘In Bloom’. The salesclerk had assured her it went perfectly with the dark green dress she was wearing, which didn’t have buttons but did have a nice low neckline and thin straps that were tied up in bows on each shoulder. The full skirt just skimmed her knees and she was wearing her nice heels.  

She poked at the pins holding back one side of her hair to be sure they were firmly in place before heading downstairs and grabbing her jacket. The butterflies in her stomach were starting to stir in anticipation.

“Bye, Mom,” Buffy called toward the kitchen. She could hear the television and moved to stand in the doorway of the living room, surprised to find her mom in there instead.

“Tell Willow I said hello, dear.” Joyce was sitting on the couch with her heels off and her feet tucked under her. There was a half-full wine glass on the side table beside her even though she hadn’t had dinner yet. Buffy had a sinking feeling that her parents’ weekend away hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped. She hadn’t seen her father since the night they’d gotten home.

“Sure,” Buffy said, reminding herself to pass along the message to Willow tomorrow at school so she wasn’t fibbing. Her friend had invited her to the clandestine socialist meeting one last time, which meant Buffy wasn’t completely lying to her mother, just…not telling her the entire truth.

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” Joyce looked up at her in concern. “Maybe if I talked to Riley’s mother…” Ever since Buffy had broken the news about her and Riley, her mother had been determined to get them back together. Hopefully Joyce would accept it soon, so Buffy could broach the subject of Spike. But that was a whole can of worms she didn’t want to open just yet.

“Mom,” Buffy interrupted gently. “I told you, there’s no fixing me and Riley. We just…sort of outgrew each other.”

Joyce nodded dejectedly and picked up her wine glass. “I want you to be happy, sweetheart, that’s all.”

“Me too,” Buffy said softly. “I promise, it was for the best.”

Joyce sighed, then waved a hand at her daughter. “Off you go then, enjoy a little girl time.” She seemed to focus on Buffy for the first time. “You look nice, dear, very grown up.” Her tone was wistful.

“I will.” Buffy relaxed a little bit. “And thank you.” 

Buffy closed the front door behind her with a guilty click and glanced around the street in the fading evening light. Riley’s car wasn’t in front of his house and the neighbors were all probably sitting down to dinner. A smile stole across her face as she hurried down the block and turned the corner, her heart leaping as she caught sight of Spike’s car.

He popped out of the driver’s side with an answering smile on his face and quickly moved to open the other door for her. Buffy tipped her face up to receive his sweet kiss before she climbed in, her hands sliding down the front of his black button up. He was wearing gray slacks, which surprised her, but he had said they were going somewhere nice for dinner. She couldn’t believe she was going to be seen with him in public, just like a real girlfriend. Of course, they’d be two towns away so they didn’t run into anyone they knew, but that almost made it sweeter. They’d just be an ordinary couple out on a date. Spike’s hands circled her waist as he pulled her close and deepened the kiss, making Buffy sigh before he stepped back.

“Ready, kitten?”

“Where are we going?” Buffy asked as he handed her in and closed the door. He came around to sit behind the steering wheel and fired up the engine.

“It’s a surprise.” Spike slanted a smile at her. “But I think you’ll like it.”

Buffy scooted across the bench seat as he drove away from her neighborhood, heading towards the main road leading out of town. She snuggled up against him as he slung his arm over her shoulders and kept her close. “I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Spike kissed her temple. “Find something on the radio for us?” Buffy reached out to fiddle with the dial until the Elvis song about moonlit waves and beaches that she liked was coming in strong through the speakers. “Now isn’t that appropriate,” Spike murmured in her ear. She shivered and settled in for the ride, her whole body filling with anticipation. Every memory they made was something she could cherish later. She was sure now this man was the one she’d never forget, not in this lifetime, and she hoped someday he’d look back fondly on her, too.

***

Buffy stared up at the façade of the restaurant, her mouth hanging open. Spike shifted nervously next to her. “Do you like it?” The giant neon sign on top of the restaurant flashed again, lighting up a red bird’s wings so they were outstretched, then folded, and back again, as though it was taking flight. It was sitting on top of a palm tree and the name of the restaurant—Kona Palms— was boldly spelled out in blue lettering next to it.

“It’s perfect,” she breathed. When Riley had bothered taking her out properly he’d always insisted they go to places he considered ‘classy’, which apparently meant the exact same places his father had taken his mother. They were almost always older restaurants that smelled faintly of cigars and served steak with three different choices of potatoes. Buffy reached out and took Spike’s hand, reveling in the way her palm fit perfectly against his. “I’ve never been anywhere like this.”

Spike smiled tentatively at her. She could hear twangy music leaking out as the door opened and a laughing couple came out, their arms around each other and their cheeks pink. Buffy thought her smile might split her face. She tugged Spike toward the entrance and the last of the tension left his body as he followed her inside.

The interior was even more overwhelming than the outside had been, and Buffy couldn’t decide what to focus on first. The wallpaper was wildly patterned, the music was toe-tappingly loud, and everywhere she looked there were brightly colored drinks passing by on trays piled high with food. Spike had his arm around her waist, keeping her tucked snugly against his side as they followed the hostess to their seats. Even the ceiling was decorated with painted palm leaves and a bright blue tropical sky, like they were eating out-of-doors. Buffy’s never seen anything quite like it.

Spike’s hands slid down her arms and she realized he was watching her in amusement, waiting patiently to help her out of her coat. “Bit wild, isn’t it?” His smile held a hint of a smirk. Buffy shrugged her jacket off and Spike’s fingers grazed along her bare shoulders as he took her coat from her before handing it to the hostess. His eyes dropped to her neckline as he pulled out her chair. “You look a treat,” Spike murmured as she settled in her seat. He gave one of the bows holding her dress up a discreet tug, causing a thrill to run down Buffy’s spine as she imagined him undoing the ties and…well. She blushed. Maybe not in the middle of the restaurant.

“It’s wonderful,” she told him as he sat down across from her. His hair was slicked back away from his face in that greaser style he seemed to employ when he wasn’t teaching, highlighting the sharpness of his features. She didn’t think she’d ever tire of seeing him look at her like he was just then, like he couldn’t believe his good fortune.

“I-” he began.

A menu suddenly blocked Buffy’s vision. “Hey! I’m Megan. Can I get you a drink?” Buffy snagged the menu and dragged it down in time to see their blonde waitress batting her eyelashes furiously in Spike’s direction as he frowned at the menu she’d handed him. She was wearing a colorful shirt tied up in a knot above her belly button and a scandalously tight sarong-style skirt.

Spike was looking at a full tray of drinks going by like he hadn’t even noticed their waitress outrageously flirting with him right in front of his date. Buffy resisted the urge to hurl her menu at the girl’s head. “Can we try those blue ones?” Spike asked, reaching across the table for Buffy’s hand and grinning happily at her. She slipped her palm into his. “Sound good, kitten?”

“Perfect,” Buffy chirped.

Megan sighed noisily. “Coming right up.” She slunk off and Buffy had to bite her lip to keep from smirking triumphantly.

“I’m glad you could come tonight,” Spike murmured, his long fingers stroking the soft underside of her wrist. She wondered if he could feel her pulse pick up as he touched her. “Wanted to treat my girl right.”

She felt her body warm at being called his girl, and wished there wasn’t a table between them. All she wanted to do in that moment was climb into his lap and kiss him thoroughly. It was amazing to think she could, and the only objection from the people around them would be that they were doing it in the middle of the dining room. No one here knew she was a student and Spike a professor, all they saw were two people enjoying each other’s company. If only that could last.

“Here you go.” Megan thumped two bright blue drinks with tiny umbrellas in them on the table and put her hands on her hips. “What’ll you have?”

“The special?” Spike guessed, his eyes still on Buffy. She nodded, smiling slightly as Megan huffed and stomped off. It still surprised her how he could make her feel like they were alone in a crowded room. He might not have returned her sentiment when she’d told him she loved him, but he still cared enough to want to make her happy. That would have to be enough.

Taking a breath and reminding herself there was dinner to get through, Buffy valiantly tried to rein in her wayward thoughts. “I liked the Byron poems,” she said softly.

Spike’s eyes lit up. “Yeah? Wasn’t sure…well, he was a bit of a mess with women himself. Thought I’d call on a kindred spirit to help me out when words just…did I tell you how gorgeous you look, kitten?”

Buffy laughed. “You did, and you don’t look so bad yourself. So, the poems from class were for me?” Her heart thumped in her chest and she felt her cheeks heat.

“All for you, Buffy.” His tone was warm and low, and she fumbled with her bright blue drink for a moment, taking a sip to try and cool her body down.

Setting the glass carefully aside she looked up to see Spike watching her, his secret-smile tugging up one side of his mouth. “Do I have something…?” She lifted a hand to her face self-consciously.

Spike shook his head. “Just happy to be out with you and not having to hide, is all.” He squeezed her fingers gently. “I hope I haven’t made such a bloody mess of things that Rupert won’t have some mercy left in him when this football nonsense is dealt with.”

Buffy clenched his hand tightly in her own. “I…you don’t think you’ll have to leave, do you?” She tried to keep the heartbreak out of her voice.

Spike’s brow furrowed for a brief moment, and then his face cleared as he lifted his drink. “Not if I have any say in it,” he replied. “Let’s enjoy tonight, kitten.”

***

Buffy threw back her head and laughed, though it was nearly lost in the loud buzz of the dining room. The place was hopping, and Spike had admitted he only knew about it because one of the other professors had been complaining about how awful the latest restaurant fad was.

“You are definitely not like any professor I’ve met,” she giggled, sipping her second blue drink. The food had been delicious and though the waitress’s shirt had somehow migrated higher and higher above her belly button, Spike hadn’t seemed to notice in the least. Riley’s eyeballs would have fallen out of his head by now. Buffy had always ignored his straying gaze, sure in the knowledge he’d chosen her over other women, but apparently she’d been fooling herself. She vowed to never let that happen again.

Spike’s eyes were fixed on her mouth. “God, I hope not, kitten.” His voice was a low purr that made Buffy shiver happily.

“Here’s your dessert.” The annoying waitress was back. She thunked an extravagantly presented pile of fruit and ice cream on the table and stalked off without saying anything more.

Spike picked up his spoon, seemingly noticing nothing amiss. “I have to say, I think he might change his mind if he’d actually bothered to try this.” He held out his spoon to her, full of ice cream and chocolate, and Buffy leaned forward to accept it, letting out a moan as the deliciously cold dessert slid down her throat. Spike’s eyes were at half mast as he watched her, a tiny smile playing on his face. “Or maybe you just make it that much better,” he murmured.

Buffy blushed and plucked a strawberry off the top of the sundae, shyly offering it to Spike. His eyes were steady on hers as he gently closed his lips around her fingertips and sucked the fruit into his mouth. The area between her legs pulsed and the memory of him kissing her breasts flashed through her mind, nearly making her whimper. She tried to make her tongue work again. “I think it’s wonderful.”

Lifting one hand to signal the waitress, Spike set his spoon down. “Ready to get out of here?”

Buffy felt her stomach sink. “Do you need to get home?”

Spike dropped his hand. “Not at all, kitten. I’m all yours.” He looked a little sheepish. “I thought we might catch a movie?”

Perking up, Buffy beamed at him. “I’d love to.” He was treating her to dinner and a movie, just like he was her real boyfriend. She wondered if she could call him that, at least while they were out together like this. Spike rose from his chair and moved around the table to help her out of hers. He accepted her coat from the hostess and held it for her, dropping a small kiss to her bare shoulder before her coat covered it again.

“I heard there’s a drive-in theater just down the way.” Spike’s smile reminded her of a mischievous little boy, and Buffy couldn’t help but laugh as he snagged her hand and pulled her towards the front door. He made her feel more alive than she’d ever been. As they walked across the dark parking lot to the car, she looked up and silently wished on all the stars that this night would go on forever.

***  
They’d arrived at the drive-in almost too late. Spike’d had to flick off the headlights of the car and creep through the lot while the ad for the concession stand played up on the big screen up front. He’d stopped next to a speaker near the back and shut off the engine.

“Bit overly dramatic, don’t you think?” Spike murmured a few minutes later, his breath tickling her ear. Buffy had scarcely noticed the movie starting. Her hand was stroking along the inside of Spike’s thigh and her whole body was pressed against his side. His arm was slung over her shoulders and he was absently sliding one finger up and down under one of the ties holding up her dress. She was giddy at having him all to herself for the evening, even if there were a handful of other cars parked in front of them.

“Sure,” she replied absentmindedly, tracing the inside seam of his slacks up until she could feel his growing hardness under her hand.

He made a growling noise in her ear and tugged on her dress tie, though he left it intact. “Christ, Buffy, you’re making me crazy. Wish I could take you home with me.” He dropped his head back against the seat and turned to nuzzle against her throat, his hips jerking up towards her hand as she pressed her palm against his trapped cock.

His hand tugged at the collar of her jacket and she shook it off her arms impatiently, letting it pool on the seat behind her. Spike kissed the juncture where her shoulder met her neck before sliding a hand into her hair and pulling her in for a deep kiss, his tongue sweeping through her mouth as she melted against him. She ached to be alone with him, to learn how to make him as happy as he’d made her over the weekend.

Gently, he pushed her back until she was propped up against the passenger side door, her head resting against the glass of the window. She let out a whimper of complaint as Spike pulled away from her, only to have him smiled crookedly at her without continuing his onslaught of kisses. “Got something else in mind, kitten,” he whispered. “You just keep watching the movie.”

The movie was the last thing she cared about as he slowly pushed up her skirts, bending to press kisses to both her knees before his hands glided up her thighs and toyed with the edge of her panties. Buffy’s breath was coming short and fast as she watched him tug off her underthings. Her hand closed around the door handle and she reminded herself that there were other people around them, so she had to keep quiet. Her heart was pounding behind her ribcage.

“Spike?” she squeaked. He’d managed to get her panties off over her shoes and was in the process of kissing his way back up one of her legs. He murmured something soothing against the inside of her thigh and encouraged her to part her legs as he crawled between them, lying almost flat across the front seat.

“Buffy,” she heard him sigh, his hand stroking up and down her leg. The rustling of her skirts seemed almost louder than the speaker playing the movie, and then Spike’s head disappeared under the fabric and he was…he was…

Buffy gasped loudly and clutched the door handle so tightly she was worried for a moment she might break it. “Spike!” He was kissing that part of her between her legs as though it was her mouth, his tongue sliding between her folds and dipping into the place he’d been the only man to ever enter. She thought she should probably push him away even as her legs parted further, seemingly of their own volition. She’d never even imagined this sort of loving before.

Every stroke of his tongue made her body quiver like she’d stuck her finger in an electrical socket. The movie was lighting up the interior of the car in flashes of white and gray, letting her catch glimpses of Spike as he maneuvered himself so he could release his cock from his slacks, wrapping his hand around it.

Buffy’s eyes rolled up in her head as he continued to lick and suck her center, his teeth gently grazing something that made her yelp before she pressed her hand against her mouth to try and stifle her cries of pleasure. Spike’s hand was sliding up and down his hardness like he’d shown her how to do on their first date, and she could both hear and feel him moaning against her skin under her skirts.

Her thighs were trembling as pressure started gathering low in her belly and something noisy happened on the movie screen outside at the same time she let out a loud groan. Spike’s hand on her thigh tightened as her hips popped up off the seat of the car and she lost her breath, nearly seeing stars as a wave of bliss swept through her.

She heard Spike’s answering groan, muffled between her legs, as she slumped back against the car door, panting. His cock jerked and he spilled his release onto the floorboard while he continued gently kissing the insides of her thighs and she recovered her breath.

Even the distant sound of movie gunfire couldn’t tear Buffy’s eyes away from her rustling skirts as Spike reemerged, his expression contented and his hair in disarray. He smoothed the fabric of her dress back down her legs and smiled at her. “Good?” he whispered.

Buffy could barely nod. She felt practically boneless. She finally peeled her fingers off the door handle and reached for Spike, not wanting to be apart from him. He’d just barely managed to tuck himself away and do up his slacks before she was climbing into his lap and kissing him, trying to tell him without words how much she enjoyed everything they did together, even if she had no idea what to expect. He made a surprised noise and Buffy realized she could taste herself on his tongue. She wondered what he tasted like, and how she might use her mouth on him.

The thought struck her that barely a week ago she’d just been a naïve virgin but now she was imagining taking a man’s cock in her mouth as well as into her body, and she let out a giggle against Spike’s lips. He pulled back, one hand tangled in her hair, and lifted one eyebrow. Buffy kissed the scar running through it and then his nose for good measure. “This is the best night ever,” she declared.

Spike let out a laugh and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. “I don’t think you’re going to get any argument from me.”


	21. Earth Angel

Buffy was the first one in the kitchen the next morning, even though she’d spent at least ten minutes trying to decide which of her sweaters showed off her figure to its best advantage. She’d finally chosen a dark blue one with a plunging vee-neck that had shrunk in the wash, forgoing a blouse underneath and pairing it with her tight black pedal pushers. She’d even added a swipe of pale pink lipstick along with her mascara and blusher.

After a moment of confusion, realizing her mother must have overslept, Buffy set a pan to heat on the stove with a very generous pat of butter in it and started cracking eggs. She was just pouring them into the pan when Joyce appeared. Buffy froze at the sight of her mother still in her bathrobe with her hair smushed flat on one side. She couldn’t remember ever seeing Joyce looking less than perfect in the morning.

“Do you need me to do that?” Joyce asked. She sounded tired, even though she’d already been in bed when Buffy’d snuck in after the movie last night.

Buffy opened her mouth to ask what was wrong before closing it again. She had a sinking feeling she knew exactly what was wrong. Her father hadn’t called to check in the last couple of evenings like he usually did. “No, I’ve got it.” Buffy gave her mother a small smile. “I promise not to burn them.”

Joyce’s mouth turned up at the corners just a little. “I’m sure you won’t.” She shuffled over to the refrigerator and pulled out a jug of orange juice, pouring two glasses full while Buffy popped a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster.

They sat down to breakfast a few minutes later with Buffy’s perfectly done, unburned eggs, some slightly underdone toast, and orange juice. Joyce toyed with her food, eating just one bite before pushing the eggs around her plate.

“Mom,” Buffy finally said, unable to hold back any longer. “Is everything ok?”

Joyce looked up at her, startled, almost as if she’d forgotten Buffy was there. She absently picked up her toast and started pulling it into pieces. “What? Oh, of course, dear. Everything’s just fine.” There was a long pause. “Your father’s gone on a business trip and he doesn’t know when he’ll be back. I’m sure he wishes he could have seen you before he left.”

Staring at her plate, Buffy tried to keep her doubt from showing on her face. She was sure her father wished no such thing, but she couldn’t tell her mother that, not when Joyce was obviously trying so hard to pretend everything was the same as always. “Um, how are the eggs?”

Joyce seemed to relax. “They’re wonderful, honey. Very nice job.”

Buffy finished the last of her toast before getting up from the table and moving to kiss her mother on the cheek. “I’d better get to school. Do you need me to pick up anything on the way home?”

Joyce blinked at Buffy’s outfit, but didn’t say a word. “No, thank you, Buffy.”

“See you tonight.” Buffy flashed another smile before gathering her school things and heading out the door. There was a hint of chill in the air that brought to mind winter evenings and hot chocolate. Maybe she’d ask her mom to teach her how to make that tonight.

***

“Willow!” Buffy waved to her friend as she hurried across the quad. She’d skipped lunch to catch up on her reading for their afternoon class, and she was dying to talk about her date with someone. Tara was walking alongside the redhead, their heads close together and smiles on their faces. They both waved back and Buffy headed in their direction only to be stopped short when a broad, familiar chest blocked her path. She took a deep breath, bracing herself, before looking up.

Riley was glowering down at her. His eyes immediately dropped to her neckline and Buffy brought her books up to cover her exposed cleavage, scowling. “What?” she snapped.

“Already that desperate, huh?” a bored voice from beside Riley drew Buffy’s attention, and she finally noticed Sam, standing beside him and wearing his letterman’s jacket over a red dress with a full skirt. She looked almost overdressed; Buffy couldn’t remember ever seeing her in anything but her cheerleading uniform.

Buffy gave her a tight smile. “Not desperate enough to poach another girl’s boyfriend.”

Sam’s expression darkened and Riley slung his arm over the cheerleader’s shoulders, finally giving up on sneaking a peek down Buffy’s shirt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We were on the rocks for a long time before Sam was in the picture, Buffy,” Riley scoffed.

Buffy raised her eyebrows just as Willow and Tara made it to her side, looking concerned. “Really? I guess I must have imagined that marriage proposal.”

Sam’s head jerked back like she’d been slapped and Riley turned bright red. “I didn’t…we’re not here to talk about that!”

“Why are you here at all?” Willow asked, stepping up beside Buffy. “I’m pretty sure Buffy told you to take a hike last time you talked, mister.”

Riley composed himself, though Sam was looking a lot more sullen tucked against his side. “I know about what’s going on.” He smirked. “With the professor.”

Buffy felt her body grow cold and Willow reached out to clutch her elbow. “I…I don’t know what you mean,” Buffy said faintly.

Riley snorted, clearly enjoying himself now. “You think they’d let him get away with it under everyone’s nose like this? He’s not even trying to hide it!”

“Riley,” Buffy started, feeling everything she ever wanted slipping through her fingers. “Please, don’t-”

“I guess I never knew just what kind of girl you really were,” Riley interrupted. Willow made a noise of protest beside her, but Buffy couldn’t find her voice. It felt like her feet were rooted to the ground when all she wanted to do was run. “After everything my father tried to teach you?” Riley continued. “You know the Reds just want to destroy everything, how could you become a…a sympathizer?”  

Buffy stared at him, her mouth hanging open. Slowly, she realized he wasn’t talking about her relationship with Spike at all. She wanted to cry with relief. It was about the communists, of course. Ever since Riley’s father had been put on some sort of special committee, she’d heard about little else.

“That’s just a witch hunt,” Willow responded archly, lifting her chin and moving her hand from Buffy’s arm to her own hip. “There’s no secret plot to undermine anything, just a lot of scared old men who hate change.”

Riley frowned at Buffy’s friend, and Tara shifted nervously behind Willow. “I told Buffy you were a bad influence. Look what’s happened!” He gestured at Buffy, who was almost dizzy with relief. She and Spike hadn’t been caught out; Riley was just parroting his father, as usual. “She’s gotten mixed up with this mess because she wouldn’t listen to reason, and now she’s dressing like some floozy?”

“Hey!” Everyone turned, startled, at Tara’s exclamation. She flushed a deep red, but stood her ground. “L-let’s not call anyone names,” she managed.

Sam rolled her eyes and tugged on Riley’s arm. “Come on, Ri, let’s go.” She looked down her nose at Buffy. “We’ve got plans with people who actually matter.”

“More like tools of the patriarchy,” Willow muttered.

Riley seemed perplexed for a moment before refocusing on Buffy. “If you snap out of it before the next game, you should think about going. Everyone’s in for a surprise.” Looking exceptionally pleased with himself, Riley strolled away with Sam still under his arm. Her expression was decidedly sour.

Watching Riley recede into the distance, Buffy could finally breathe again. She sucked in a lungful of air. For a moment it had felt like her whole world had started crumbling. She frowned, remembering Riley’s parting words, and realized she needed to warn Spike about whatever nonsense the football team had apparently cooked up.

“Buffy?” A hand on her arm startled her. Turning, she realized Tara and Willow were watching her worriedly. “Are you okay?” Tara asked softly, drawing back her hand.

“I have to go,” Buffy said.

“But what about class?” Willow protested.

Buffy hesitated for a moment, but their afternoon history class together was suddenly much less important than it’d seemed a few minutes ago. “Sorry, Will. Can I borrow your notes later?” Buffy spun around and set her sights on the English department. 

“Of cour-”

The rest of Willow’s sentence was lost as Buffy headed back across the quad, barely restraining herself from breaking into a run.

***

Fist poised, Buffy was just about to knock on Spike’s office door when it opened, startling her.

“Buff- uh, Miss Summers,” Spike corrected himself. His smile crinkled the edges of his eyes and almost made her forget the reason she’d been hoping to catch him. “I was just about to…” He glanced around the empty corridor and stepped back, holding his office door open in invitation. “But this is a nice surprise.”

She stepped inside and Spike closed the door firmly before he pinned her against it with his body, his lips on hers. Buffy returned his greeting eagerly, dropping her poor, neglected schoolwork to the floor in favor of wrapping her arms around his neck and opening her mouth to his questing tongue. She sighed happily as he pulled back a smidge, his eyes dropping to her low neckline and his hands sliding down to caress her behind. “Hello, kitten. Wasn’t sure I’d see you today.”

Buffy leaned back against the door, enjoying how Spike seemed unable to look away from her cleavage. She tugged on the hem of her tight sweater, making the neckline dip scandalously low. “Do you have any more classes?” she asked breathlessly.

Spike slowly shook his head, his hands skimming up her sides to cup her breasts. “Just thinking of heading home,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to her collarbone. “Got a bit tired of trying to clean up the mess those hooligans left. Glad I didn’t miss this, though.” He finally lifted his gaze. “How was your day?”

Wrinkling her nose, Buffy straightened up and sighed. She didn’t want to ruin this moment by mentioning her ex-boyfriend, but Spike needed to know what was going on. “It was nice up until I ran into Riley earlier.”

Spike frowned and reached behind her to twist the brand-new lock on the door before putting a hand on her lower back and ushering her towards his desk. “Is he bothering you?” Spike sounded almost angry.

“Not really. I mean, he’s being a jerk but that doesn’t matter.” She skirted around the books piled on the floor all over the room like they were in the middle of being sorted. She tried to stop by the uncomfortable chair in front of the desk but Spike’s hand gently urged her on until she was standing beside his chair, a wide, sturdy wooden one with arms so worn they looked polished. He settled himself in it and pulled her into his lap, his arms circling her waist and holding her close.

“That wanker,” Spike growled. “He’s got no right to even breathe the same air as you.” His brow was deeply furrowed. Buffy reached up and traced a finger along it until it smoothed out again. She kind of liked this possessive side of him, it made her hope that she’d have more time with him before he moved on.

“Spike,” she reprimanded fondly. “He doesn’t matter. The only thing that’s bothering me is something he said about you.”

The furrow in Spike’s brow made a reappearance. Buffy rested her head on his shoulder and let out a long breath. “I think he’s telling people you’re a communist.”

Spike snorted and leaned a cheek against the top of her head. His hand was absently stroking her knee. “No wonder Rupes asked me to take some of my books home.”

Buffy felt some of the tension leave her body. She smoothed her hand down his tie, a gray one today to go with his navy blue suit. “I wanted to tell you just in case. Be careful, okay?”

Putting a hand under her chin, Spike tilted her face up. “I will, kitten. Thanks for looking out for me.” He pressed a kiss against her lips and Buffy slid an arm around his neck to play with the soft hairs there that had escaped whatever he used to slick it back.

She longed for him to ask her to come home with him tonight, even if she knew that was impossible. Dr. Giles might have been able to disregard Spike being at her house the other morning when he’d called, but having Buffy right in the middle of his living room would be much harder to ignore. Especially when Spike seemed to have as hard a time keeping his hands to himself as she did.

Spike’s hand had migrated from her knee up towards the juncture of her thighs and she moaned against his lips as his fingers grazed the spot between her legs before slipping under the hem of her sweater. “Missed you today,” Spike murmured against her throat before kissing his way towards her cleavage. His hand was toying with the bottom edge of her bra.

Buffy leaned back against the arm of his chair and tried to get comfortable without success. Spike’s fingers found the front clasp of her bra at the moment, distracting her again as he began to undo it. “Spike,” she protested half-heartedly. “We’re…what if…”

He lifted his head, his eyes unfocused and far away. “What’s that, kitten?” The two halves of her bra separated, and Spike’s thumb swept across one of her peaked nipples, making Buffy gasp.

“Don’t stop,” she managed, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. She shifted in his lap as an idea occurred to her, and she started to stand. Spike’s arms tightened around her and he frowned, but she just leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered. His hands slipped to her hips as she rearranged herself in his lap, tucking her legs on either side of his so she was straddling him instead of awkwardly perched on one leg. She could feel his growing hardness as she settled herself again, sighing happily. “Much better.”

Spike nodded mutely, now at eye level with her breasts. Buffy cupped his cheek and he tilted his head back so she could kiss him, their tongues tangling together as Spike pulled her flush against him and Buffy clutched his shoulders, feeling his collar crinkle under her hands. He worked his way back under her sweater and she started to lift her arms so he could take it off her but Spike broke their kiss, shaking his head. “Leave it on,” he said hoarsely before recapturing her lips.

His hands were on her breasts, both caressing and teasing, before he slid them across her stomach and up over the fabric of her sweater to the neckline, tugging it down even further. His lips skimmed her throat and Buffy arched her back as he exposed one breast and then the other, cupping them in his hands as he kissed each of her nipples before sucking one into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth.

Letting out a gasp, Buffy clutched the back of Spike’s head. Spike let out a rumbling, contented noise that sent a thrill up Buffy’s spine. His fingers danced along the zipper of her pedal pushers, reminding her of something else she’d wanted to try. “Spike?” she whispered. He hummed against her breasts, kissing his way to her other nipple. “Can I…?” She bit her lip, unsure how to finish her sentence.

His attention caught, Spike lifted his head to meet her gaze. “What is it?”

Gathering her courage, Buffy pushed herself back and stood while Spike watched her, his bewildered expression turning to one of astonishment as she sank down to kneel between his legs. His slacks were tented, his arousal straining against the fabric, and she felt a sense of pride to have been the one to cause it. She rested her hands against his thighs and slid her hands up towards her prize as Spike watched her, his eyes wide.

“Buffy, you…what-”

Buffy stopped her tentative exploration and glanced up. “I just…wanted to taste you.”

“Oh christ.” Spike’s head dropped back and his hands tangled in her hair as Buffy stroked the length of his cock through the fabric of his pants before she moved to undo his belt and zipper. Spike groaned as she released his hardness, the head a deep red and the rest nearly as flushed.

Buffy stared, fascinated, as a bit of fluid leaked from the tip. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft like he’d shown her before, holding him firmly as she leaned forward and swiped her tongue across the head. It tasted like nothing she’d ever had before, a deep, musky flavor that was all Spike. Her core pulsed as she licked it again. Spike made a strangled noise that had her looking up worriedly. He was watching her, open-mouthed, his tie askew and his chest heaving. “Okay?” she asked.

Spike’s mouth worked for a minute. “Yes,” he finally said hoarsely. “Very okay, kitten.” Satisfied she wasn’t doing something wrong, Buffy leaned in and this time she swirled her tongue around the head of his cock. Spike’s fingers tightened in her hair, then immediately loosened again.

Buffy moved her hand down, exposing more of his shaft for her to taste. She traced the vein along the underside with her tongue, thinking of how good Spike had made her feel at the drive-in. It had been almost like he was kissing her down there, she remembered. Pulling back, Buffy opened her mouth and sucked the reddened head of his cock into her mouth like she would Spike’s tongue. She was rewarded with a low groan from Spike, his fingers sliding through her hair and over her ears as she gently sucked him.

“You can…” Spike sounded out of breath. “Can use your hand, too.” He shifted on the chair and Buffy obeyed, sliding her hand up towards her mouth and then away again as she tried to follow it, drawing more of him between her lips. Spike was panting above her with only one hand in her hair now.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of him clutching the arm of his chair in a white-knuckled grip. Taking that as a good sign, she continued stroking him with her hand and closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of his soft skin against her tongue and his hard cock filling her mouth. She couldn’t take it all in, but Spike didn’t seem to mind, his moans and half-words of encouragement spurring her on.

Spike’s hips bucked up off the chair as the hand in her hair gently tried to tug her mouth off his cock. She looked up questioningly. “Wait, Buffy, I…” His voice shook and his cock jerked in her hand just as his release hit the back of her throat. Buffy swallowed out of reflex, startled, and tightened her grip on his cock as he finished in her mouth, the flavor of him strong on her tongue. 

When at last it seemed to end, Buffy gave his cock one last lick and let it slip from between her lips, watching Spike from under her eyelashes. He was slumped back in his chair and trying to catch his breath, staring at her in wonder. “Was that…was I alright?” she asked. The fabric of her sweater was rough against her sensitive nipples, making her shiver.

“Were you…?” Spike repeated hazily. He caught her hand with his and tugged her up. Buffy settled back into his lap, her arms circling his neck. He ran his fingers down her cheek and his thumb swiped across her lower lip. “It was amazing. You’re amazing.”

Buffy felt her face flush and she smiled. Spike pulled her in for a gentle kiss “Supposed to meet Rupert just about now,” he said, his tone tinged with regret.

“Oh.” Buffy knew she sounded disappointed, and couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes, instead fiddling with his loosened tie. She was surprised when his arms tightened around her.

“Shouldn’t take long. Can I drive you home?”

She glanced up. “Home?”

Spike looked a little sheepish. “Well, thought we might take a drive up to the cliff first so I can repay the favor, but eventually home.”

A smile spread across Buffy’s face. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeah?” Spike gave her another swift kiss. “Perfect. Give me a few minutes and I’ll meet you at the car.”

“But-” Buffy fixed the knot of his tie and smoothed it down. “What if someone sees?”

Spike shrugged. “Just a harmless ride home.”

Buffy’s brow furrowed. “I don’t want to get you in more trouble. If Riley…”

“He’s just blowing smoke,” Spike scoffed.

“As long as you’re sure.”

“That I want to spend more time with you?” Spike tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Of that I’m very sure.”

***

Buffy shifted her books from one arm to the other restlessly, waiting for Spike’s familiar gray hat to appear over the top of the parked cars. She’d walked as slowly as she could towards the faculty lot after a quick stop in the girl’s room to fix her hair. Apparently he was running later than he’d hoped.

His car sat empty at the far end of the lot, gleaming in the late afternoon sun. She’d heard all kinds of warnings about the things people got up to in the backseats of cars, and after what Spike had accomplished in the front seat, she was looking forward to seeing what else he had in mind.

A slow parade of older black cars caught her attention as they turned the corner into the faculty parking lot and stopped. There were three total, and Buffy’s stomach dropped as Riley emerged from the passenger seat of one at the same time his father emerged from the driver’s side.  Her feet automatically started walking in their direction as Riley pointed emphatically at Spike’s car while men in dark suits joined Riley’s father and held a brief consultation.

When one of the strangers opened up the driver’s door of Spike’s car, Buffy sped up her steps. “Hey!” she called out. “What are you doing?”

Riley’s dad scowled at her, holding out a hand to stop her. “Buffy, what are you doing here?”

His gaze flickered to his son, who seemed just as surprised to see her. “This is none of your business, Buffy,” Riley told her.

“That’s not their car!” Buffy put one hand on her hip, gesturing at the two strangers who were now opening all of Spike’s car doors.

“It belongs to a suspected Red,” Mr. Finn said sternly. “Nothing to worry your head about.”

“You can’t just go through people’s things!” Buffy exclaimed, her heart racing. She’d gone home last night without her underwear, having been unable to find it again in the dark after the movie was over. Spike had promised to find it, but if these men did instead she was going to be absolutely mortified.

“It’s for the good of public safety,” Riley’s dad said, sounding like he repeated that line a thousand times a day.

“For the- He’s a professor!” Buffy sputtered indignantly. “He’s not dangerous!”

Mr. Finn’s eyes narrowed, and he stuck an unlit cigar in the corner of his mouth. “They come in all shapes and sizes.”

Buffy could see Spike and Dr. Giles approaching over his shoulder. Spike looked livid and Dr. Giles extremely worried. She watched the Dean relieve Spike of the box he was carrying and head to another car as Spike stalked in their direction. He was wearing her scarf, the red ends of her hand-knit project tucked under the collar of his long black coat. A surge of affection rolled through her at the sight of him wearing it.

Riley was standing with his arms crossed, watching the strangers go through Spike’s car. One of them had managed to pop the trunk but so far there’d been no sign of her underwear, thank goodness.

“What the hell is going on here!” Spike ground out as he approached.

“You the owner of this car?” Mr. Finn said, apparently unconcerned.

“Yes, I bloody well am! You get your goons out of there before I call the cops!”

“We work with the cops.” Riley’s dad shrugged. “And we got an anonymous tip you’ve been spreading communist literature.” Spike stared at him incredulously. “Professor,” Mr. Finn added a bit belatedly.

Buffy glared daggers at Riley, who smirked at her behind his father’s back. She’d never thought he’d stoop this low. A whoop had them all turning towards the car. One of the men emerged from Spike’s passenger side, waving a book over his head. All the blood drained from Buffy’s face as she recognized the copy of _Howl_ she’d left under the seat. Spike’s eyes flickered towards her and she sent him an apologetic look. 

“What’s this?” Mr. Finn accepted the book one of his men handed him and frowned at the cover. Riley’s brow furrowed and he looked at Buffy, but she ignored him. She bit her lip worriedly. If she spoke up to explain, it might make things even worse.

Spike sighed heavily. “It’s a book. You see all those funny squiggles in it? Those are called letters. They form words and sentences to make a story. Does that clear up your confusion?”

“A wise guy, eh?” Mr. Finn flipped through the first few pages, his face darkening. “I don’t know what kind of filth they read where you’re from, but this isn’t the sort of thing we allow in this town.”

Dr. Giles hurried towards them, his face red and his tie flapping over his shoulder. “Excuse me, I’m the Dean, what’s going on?”

Riley’s dad lifted his eyebrows as he pulled a piece of paper out from between two pages of the book and Buffy inhaled sharply. The flyer Willow had given her. She’d forgotten. She watched with dread as it was unfolded, and then Mr. Finn glared at Spike. “I’d like to hear what you have to say about this, commie.” He held up the paper for Spike to see.

“I’ve never seen-” Spike started.

Buffy opened her mouth but closed it again when Dr. Giles shot her a quelling look.

Dr. Giles put a restraining hand on Spike’s shoulder and stepped forward. “I’m sure we can clear this all up,” he said, his voice soft and appeasing. “Spike’s just recently joined us and he may not realize the danger these kinds of things pose.”

“Well, he’s about to get a hell of an education.” Riley’s dad snapped the book shut and took the cigar out of his mouth. “You vouching for him?”

Dr. Giles straightened his shoulders. “Yes.”

“Rupert,” Spike protested.

“We’ll talk later,” Dr. Giles said calmly. Spike fell silent.

“We’re towing his car, and we’ll be checking his office, too. Be downtown at the courthouse tomorrow, 9 am sharp. Got it?”

“Yes, we understand,” Dr. Giles replied in a clipped tone.

“And you,” Mr. Finn pointed at Buffy with his cigar. “Get in the damn car. I’m taking you home. Does your mother know what kind of company you’re keeping nowadays?”

Buffy backed up a step. “I don’t...”

“I’ll drive her home,” Dr. Giles interrupted.

“What?” Mr. Finn turned, annoyed. “Now see here-”

“Thank you, Dr. Giles.” Buffy lifted her chin. “I accept.” She marched away before anyone else could tell her what to do. She was practically vibrating with anger and worry. How could Riley do this? Were his stupid football games worth more than a man’s livelihood? How had she missed seeing his callous disregard for anyone but himself?

Dr. Giles caught up to her a moment later, his strides long and his mouth set in a firm line. She could hear Spike hurrying to catch up to them. “Rupert,” Spike began again.

“Later, William,” Dr. Giles said tersely.

He opened the passenger door of a nondescript brown car. “Miss Summers.”

“Dr. Giles.” Buffy stopped, feeling terribly guilty. “I’m really sorry. I…”

The Dean’s expression softened. “We’ll figure something out, let’s just get out of here for now.”

Buffy obediently slid in so he could close the door. She heard the door directly behind her open and close as well, and wiggled her arm through the gap between the seatback and the doorframe, reaching back until Spike grasped her hand. “Everything’s going to be fine, kitten.” He squeezed her fingers as Dr. Giles slid in behind the steering wheel and started the car.

They drove away in silence.


	22. Since I Don't Have You

PRESENT DAY

“You know,” Willow gesticulated wildly with one hand, sloshing a bit of scotch out of her glass. “Like with a whole jungle and fatigues sort of theme.”

Anya wrinkled her nose. “I don’t remember there being many girls in Platoon. What part would Buffy play?”

“Uh…” Willow slumped back against the couch cushions and squinted at the ceiling. “A war buddy?”

“I think they frown on that sort of hanky-panky in the trenches,” Anya said skeptically, pouring another inch of scotch into her glass.

“It doesn’t have to be completely different from real life,” Tara pointed out. “Maybe he’s just dreaming that they didn’t break up and everything turned out fine after the Initiative left.”

Anya shuddered. “Ugh, I always get the heebie jeebies when I hear that name.”

“Why?” Willow lifted her head, looking perplexed.

Anya raised her eyebrows. “Ex-demon?” She gestured at herself. “Demon-hunting mad scientists?” She flicked a hand vaguely in one direction, frowned, then pointed in the opposite direction. “Wait, which way is the college?”

“Oh.” Tara looked at her sympathetically. “Well, he could also be dreaming that he was just a regular college student and not in the…military.”

Willow had gone back to studying the ceiling. “Hey, did you guys ever think it was a little weird for Riley to start dating Buffy when he was grading her papers? I mean, I never said anything to her, but she did kind of suspiciously well in that class.”

Tara’s brow furrowed. “I guess I never thought of that. That does seem a little, um, unfair.” 

“Great way to get your grades up though,” Anya said nonchalantly. 

“Buffy wouldn’t cheat!” Willow struggled to sit up. “I mean, not on purpose. I don’t think she even noticed, really.”

Tara petted her girlfriend’s arm. “We’re not saying she was cheating, sweetie.”

Anya sighed loudly. “They could be dreaming about practically anything, since Spike ended up a cowboy last time. I mean, Riley could be dreaming he’s that alien who constantly saves the earth from the bald millionaire and Buffy could be his nosy girlfriend who’s always tripping at inconvenient times, but mostly when she’s in terrible danger.”

Willow’s hand shot up into the air. “Oh, I know this one! Superman and Lois Lane!”

Tara started giggling.

“I wonder what Xander and I would dream about?” Anya mused. “I’d have to make sure and go first. I could be rich and he could be my pool boy. Or maybe he could be a famous artist and I could be his muse? Ooh, wait! I could be a queen with a very large harem, but none of the men can satisfy me even though they’re all quite handsome and have large…”

“Anya!” Willow was laughing along with Tara as she tossed a badly-aimed pillow in Anya’s direction. “Save it for when Xander wakes up.”

***

Buffy nervously smoothed down the collar of the navy blue dress she’d carefully pressed and hung up last night. The color was somber, but it still had buttons up the front so she could leave a couple undone for Spike. Her hair was pulled back for the first time in a while, pinned into a chignon instead of up in a ponytail. She’d carefully applied her blusher and mascara, but had forgone any lipstick.  It’d only get chewed off within a minute, she was so nervous.

Joyce was waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a stern look on her face and Buffy’s school things in her hands. Buffy lifted her chin and met her mother’s gaze steadily as she descended. “Mother.”

“Buffy.” Joyce took a deep breath and frowned down at the books she was holding. “Mr. Finn called. He said…well, I’m not sure what sort of wild ideas are going around at your school, but he’s concerned about you.” She held out Buffy’s school things.

Buffy accepted her books, grateful that they were all just regular textbooks. She had no idea how she would’ve explained _Howl_ to her mother if she’d still had it, but at least Spike wouldn’t have gotten into trouble because of her. “Nothing wild’s going on at the college, Mom. Except the whole football team being suspended for cheating. Did Mr. Finn tell you about that?”

Joyce frowned. “I…he didn’t mention it, though I’d heard something about a misunderstanding…”

Buffy tucked her books under her arm and let out an undignified snort. “Misunderstanding my foot,” she muttered.

Joyce put her hands on her hips. “Buffy Anne! I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but you need to get your head on straight. Life’s only going to give you so many opportunities, and you shouldn’t squander them!”

Buffy smiled at that. “I know.”

Joyce seemed caught off guard, though it didn’t quite derail the lecture. “Honestly, Buffy. Your father...” she trailed off, staring at a spot somewhere over Buffy’s shoulder. 

“Mom,” Buffy said quietly. “I thought you wanted me to be happy?”

“Of course!” Joyce seemed to shake herself out of her daze and her expression softened. “You know I do.”

“Good.” Buffy leaned forward and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Then trust me when I say I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

Joyce looked surprised. “But…”

Buffy shifted her books, impatient to get going so she wouldn’t be late. “I’ll explain later, I promise.”

Letting out a sigh, Joyce reached over and plucked Buffy’s tan coat off its hook and held it out to her daughter. “It’s chilly this morning.”

“Thank you.” Buffy accepted the silent apology and slipped on her jacket before heading out the door, walking in the direction of the college for two blocks before veering towards the courthouse instead. She couldn’t leave Spike there to face those people alone. Hopefully her mother would understand.

***

The hallways at the Sunnydale Courthouse seemed to be designed for intimidation. Buffy’s heels were loud on the stone floor and it felt like everyone was looking at her as she passed. Despite the vast space she felt too warm, and she paused to shed her coat. There were so many men in dark suits with solemn expressions that they all started to blur together by the time she spotted a familiar face.

“Dr. Giles?”

The Dean looked shocked to see her, his mouth working for a moment before he glanced around and leaned in close to her, keeping his voice low. “Miss Summers, I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you…”

“Is Spike with you?” she interrupted worriedly.

“Buffy?” a bewildered voice asked behind her.

She turned to see Riley’s father and automatically stood a little straighter. “Mr. Finn.”

Riley’s dad shook his head. “I thought your mother would talk some sense into you. You head on home. There’s no reason for you to get mixed up in this.” 

“No, thank you.” Buffy replied stiffly. “I’ll stay.”

Mr. Finn seemed unsure about how to respond to that, eventually giving Dr. Giles a commiserating look before striding off down one of the nearby hallways. Buffy watched him disappear around the corner while she gathered her courage to face the Dean, though when she turned back to Dr. Giles his expression was more sympathetic than it had been earlier. He sighed and reached for the overly-elaborate handle of the large door in front of them. “Shall we?”

“Thank you,” Buffy said, hoping he understood she meant it for more than just his manners.

Dr. Giles paused for a moment before tugging open the door, his eyes searching her face. “You care for him a great deal, don’t you?” he asked quietly.

Buffy met the Dean’s gaze squarely. “I love him.”

Dr. Giles closed his eyes briefly before setting his jaw and nodding once. “You and I need to have a bit of a chat later on, Miss Summers, but we have more pressing matters at the moment.”

Buffy tried not to let the alarm show on her face. He didn’t sound angry, just resigned. “Yes, sir.”

Dr. Giles opened the door and stepped back to let her through first. The room was smaller than she’d expected from its grand entrance, long and narrow with a high ceiling and no windows. A shallow dais opposite the door had several chairs on it, all facing a battered rectangular table that was the centerpiece of the room. Two rows of chairs were tucked up against the side walls, though most were empty. Buffy followed Dr. Giles to a pair of seats close to the dais and near a door that was disguised to look like part of the wall. She looked around anxiously, but Spike was nowhere to be seen.

“Dr. Giles, Where’s…”

“I’m sure he’ll be in shortly,” the Dean murmured. “They whisked him off the moment we got here for paperwork or some such nonsense.”

Buffy shifted in her chair and lifted a hand to the collar of her dress. She decided the two buttons she’d left undone was enough for Spike to notice, and the last thing she needed was Riley’s nosy father to call her mom again. She wasn’t a child to be scolded anymore, but he apparently disagreed.

As though her thoughts had made him appear, Mr. Finn stepped out of the hidden door, followed closely by Riley. Buffy forgot about them a moment later as Spike appeared behind them. His face was expressionless, but she could see the tic in his jaw that betrayed his annoyance. Riley’s father waved lazily at the table in the center of the room and Spike stalked in that direction, his hat in his hand and his black suit jacket unbuttoned. He pulled out the lone chair at the table and sat, lounging back like he hadn’t a care in the world. His head swiveled in her direction and her breath caught as his eyes widened. She gave him a tentative smile and would swear she saw him relax just a bit.

“Let’s get on with this farce,” Dr. Giles muttered beside her, shifting in his seat and pulling a sheaf of paperwork from the battered leather briefcase he’d been carrying. Buffy had tucked her own books under her chair, and she plucked nervously at her skirt as they all waited.

Mr. Finn took a seat on the dais along with four other men, all of them wearing dark suits and somber expressions. Riley finally seemed to notice she was there, frowning at her from his seat across the room. Sam had appeared as well, sitting next to him in a dull grey dress and examining her fingernails with a faint frown. The chairs around the room were nearly full now, and Buffy recognized a few of her neighbors. Apparently, the possibility of a Communist college professor was quite a draw. 

Buffy focused her attention on Spike, her heart constricting as Mr. Finn stood up and cleared his throat. This entire charade was ridiculous, but she’d heard of men being put on the list of suspected Reds without any proof at all, let alone after finding banned literature in their vehicles. She would never forgive Riley if Spike was sent away.

“The defendant will state his name for the record,” Mr. Finn intoned.

There was a long pause as Spike pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, shook one out, tapped it on the table in front of him a few times, and lit it with a practiced motion. Once he’d exhaled a lungful of smoke, he finally answered. “William Pratt.” His tone was almost leisurely, as though he was introducing himself to a stranger at a social function. Buffy suppressed a smile, staring down at her intertwined fingers.

Beside her, she heard Dr. Giles let out a sigh. She leaned a bit closer to him as the committee introduced themselves and explained their function. Buffy had heard more than enough from Mr. Finn about the critical importance of making sure everyone in Sunnydale was safe from the influence of the Reds. Though she never really had figured out how his committee was supposed to stop people from thinking about whatever they wanted to. “Did they say anything else this morning?” she whispered to the Dean.

Dr. Giles shook his head almost imperceptibly. “Nothing else was found in his office,” he murmured back. She saw the shadow of a smile cross his face and remembered the box Spike had been carrying through the parking lot last night before Dr. Giles had relieved him of it. Thank goodness Spike had his godfather on his side.

“Mr. Pratt,” Mr. Finn said when the introductions were finished. “Do you understand why you’re here today?”

Spike lifted one eyebrow. “To keep you lot employed?” he replied. Buffy simultaneously wanted to giggle nervously and to urge him to cooperate so he wouldn’t get in more trouble than he already was. Dr. Giles let out another weary sigh.

Mr. Finn did not appear amused. “You’re accused of facilitating the spread of socialist literature, and of attempting to indoctrinate the students while employed in good faith at Sunnydale University.”

“And here I thought I was just teaching English Literature,” Spike drawled. He took a last drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out in a cracked amber-colored ashtray on the table in front of him.

The committee ignored him as they passed a few pieces of paper among themselves. One of the other members, a young, pasty-faced man who couldn’t be much older than Buffy, got up and marched to the center of the room. He held a sheaf of paperwork out to Spike, who accepted it without comment.

Spike was fiddling with an unlit cigarette while he perused the papers with a slight frown. Buffy chewed nervously on her lower lip and resisted getting up to go peer over his shoulder at whatever it was. One of Spike’s curls had escaped being slicked back, and it was hanging just over his temple. He swiped at it irritatedly and Buffy fought back tears at the thought of never again seeing him like she had the morning they’d woken up together: relaxed and carefree, his hair a wild tangle from their lovemaking.

“You recognize this?” Mr. Finn asked. Buffy sensed a trap, and she saw Spike’s eyes narrow. His hand reached up and tugged on his plain gray tie, causing it to go askew.

“Yeah,” Spike replied warily. “It’s my syllabus.”

Mr. Finn’s smile held no warmth. “I see.” He held up a piece of paper in his hand. “I have here the list of subversive literature that has been deemed inappropriate for the good of the American citizenry. And here,” he held up another paper with yellow highlighter streaks all over it, “is the reading material for your class. We’ve highlighted the overlap.”

A collective gasp went around the room and Buffy wanted to leap out of her chair and strangle Riley’s father. Had he ever read any of the things Spike was trying to share? Who had decided those particular expressions of feelings and emotions were dangerous? Buffy clasped her fingers together so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Dr. Giles reached over and gently patted her knee before standing up and raising a hand as though he were a student himself. “Ah, pardon me, gentlemen.”

Mr. Finn, who had been looking extremely pleased with himself, stared at the Dean in confusion. A buzz of whispers started all around the room. “Yes, Dr. Giles?” Mr. Finn said after a moment. 

“I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding,” Dr. Giles continued. Spike’s brow furrowed for a moment before his expression cleared and Buffy felt a cautious hope blossom in her chest. The Dean held out his own sheaf of paperwork. “As you know, we’ve had to adjust the literature we cover in several of our classes over the last year or so, and have always done so with in cooperation with you and your committee.” Dr. Giles nodded at the men surrounding Mr. Finn, who nodded back in recognition.

“Yes, we have, but-”

“So you see,” Dr. Giles continued smoothly, as though he hadn’t heard Mr. Finn. “This was simply a mix up. Due to the abrupt departure of Professor Gregory, Professor Pratt had little time to prepare and must have found an old class reading list that hadn’t been…vetted.” Dr. Giles stepped up to the table and set a paper down in front of Spike before continuing up to the dais and distributing it to the men there. Buffy watched with wide eyes as Mr. Finn’s frowned deepened and the other men began to whisper among themselves, several of them shaking their heads. Her hope grew a little stronger.

“Dr. Giles,” Mr. Finn said sternly. “How could this have gone unnoticed?”

Dr. Giles spread his hands out in a silent apology. “Things have been a bit chaotic since we’ve been investigating the, ah, other issue recently brought to light.” Buffy glanced over at Riley and watched his face begin to turn red. “But obviously this has not gone unnoticed, as you fine men have brought it to my attention and this error shall be remedied immediately. Thank you, gentlemen.” Dr. Giles nodded once more and walked back to sit next to Buffy. She snuck a peek at him out of the corner of her eye and would swear he was holding back a smirk that was remarkably similar to the one Spike was hiding from the committee behind the paper Dr. Giles had handed him.

“Well, uh,” Mr. Finn fumbled for a moment. “You’re welcome, Dr. Giles. However-” He glared at the other men of the committee, who’d continued to chat with each other, looking much more relaxed now. “There’s still the other issue.”

Spike’s smirk dropped from his face and he carefully set the paper on the table in front of him. Buffy sat bolt-upright in her chair, her heart pounding. “What issue’s that?” Spike asked. He flicked open his lighter and lit the cigarette he’d been toying with, taking a deep drag. Buffy searched the faces of the committee anxiously, but none of them were looking at her. Mr. Finn nodded at his son, who rose from his chair. Buffy shifted in her seat and watched Riley leave the room, knowing nothing good could come of his involvement in this charade.

“The issue of the socialist pamphlet we found in your car,” Mr. Finn replied. He held up another piece of paper that Buffy recognized as being the flyer from Willow that she’d left in Spike’s copy of _Howl_. The other committee members were once again wearing their most serious expressions, and everyone else in the room began to whisper. Buffy’s stomach felt like it was filled with stones. Spike was going to be fired and sent back to England and it was all her fault.

Spike leaned forward, his free hand tapping on the table as though to emphasize his words. “I told you, I’ve never seen that before. Someone must have been handing them out and I’d forgotten about it. You know how prevalent flyers like that are on college campuses. I can’t be bothered to read them all.”

Mr. Finn didn’t look convinced, and Riley returned at that moment, solicitously escorting the blonde cheerleader Buffy recognized from Spike’s office that terrible afternoon when she’d thought he’d moved on from her. She stiffened in her seat and noticed that Sam was frowning at the other girl as well while Riley walked Harmony toward the dais and pulled up a chair for her under the watchful eye of his father.

“Thank you, Riley,” Mr. Finn said. “Now, Miss Kendall, would you be so kind as to tell the rest of the committee what you shared with me?”

Riley had returned to his seat, and was having what looked to be a heated, whispered conversation with Sam, who looked quite unhappy. Harmony glanced in Riley’s direction, catching his eye. He nodded and smiled encouragingly, taking Sam’s hand in his. Sam yanked her hand back and turned away from him in her chair as much as she was able, ostensibly turning her full attention to Harmony.

“Sure, Mr. Finn,” Harmony smiled widely at the men on the committee. “Um, I saw Professor Pratt at the meeting advertised on the flyer.” She continued smiling, though Mr. Finn’s brow furrowed slightly.

“What?” Spike asked in disbelief. “How-”

“Can you perhaps elaborate at bit more, Miss Kendall?” Mr. Finn interrupted.

Dr. Giles made a discontented noise under his breath and Buffy’s heart dropped into her shoes. It seemed that Harmony was a surprise to all of them. But why…Buffy watched Harmony glance nervously at Riley again, and her ex-boyfriend give the other girl an encouraging nod. Buffy glared at Riley across the room. He was trying to save his own skin by railroading the professor, she realized. She’d never thought he would stoop so low.

“Oh! Um, so I was out shopping and stuff, you know there was a great sale at…” She took in her audience and apparently decided they wouldn’t be interested in sales. “Anyways, there were a bunch of totally weird people going into this building and I saw the professor there.” She smiled triumphantly and looked towards Riley again. He smiled back. Sam was glaring at Harmony, but the blonde cheerleader didn’t seem to notice.

“And when was this?” Riley’s father coaxed.

“Uh, two nights ago?” Harmony checked with Riley for confirmation and Buffy wanted to scream in frustration. It was so obvious she was completely making up her “witness” statement. “Yeah, two nights ago. At the time the flyer said.” This time the audience’s murmurs were louder. Harmony gave another practiced smile, as though she was performing a cheer and not ruining a man’s life.

“Seven o’clock in the evening?” Mr. Finn prompted.

“Yep,” Harmony blithely replied.

“Now wait just a minute, I never-” Spike protested.

“The evidence speaks for itself, Mr. Pratt.” Riley’s dad smirked. He nodded at Harmony, who beamed up at him.

Tears pricked at the corner of Buffy’s eyes. It wasn’t fair. Spike was going to be labeled a Red and sent away, all because of some silly flyer she should have thrown out. She glanced at Dr. Giles, but he seemed as worried as she did. If only someone could prove he hadn’t…Buffy nearly shot up out of her chair.

“Well, Mr. Pratt, it looks like you…Buffy?” Mr. Finn frowned at her as she took a step forward. “Take a seat, we’re nearly though.”

Her hands trembled, but Buffy lifted her chin and ignored Mr. Finn’s directive. “She’s lying.”

Harmony’s jaw dropped and the noise in the room increased. “I am not!” Harmony exclaimed, crossing her arms.

Spike had turned to face Buffy, looking at her in puzzlement. She knew this was a risk, but it was one they could share instead of some falsehood designed to get Riley and the football team out of trouble. She’d heard more than once that suspected communists were ruined for life, their reputation in shambles, never to be trusted again. Mr. Finn had always sounded extremely pleased about it. She couldn’t let that happen to Spike. Not if she could save him. Even if it meant he had to leave Sunnydale, at least he could start again somewhere else.

Buffy took a deep breath. “She couldn’t have seen him, because he was at dinner with me.”

The room erupted.

Buffy kept her eyes steady on Mr. Finn as he turned a strange shade of purple and finally stood from his chair. “Enough!” Mr. Finn roared. The audience subsided but Buffy could still hear the low buzz of conversation. She risked a glance at Spike, but he didn’t seem angry with her. She tried to smile at him and was relieved to see his crooked secret-smile flit across his face. “This is preposterous,” Mr. Finn announced. “What are you talking about?”

“We were at dinner two nights ago,” Buffy repeated. “So he couldn’t have attended that meeting. Miss Kendall was mistaken.”

“Now see here, young lady, I know you’ve gotten mixed up with an unsavory crowd, but this-”

“And then we saw a movie,” Buffy continued, undeterred. “You can check with Kona Palms and the drive-in if you want. Although I think the tickets are probably in his car, which you towed. We weren’t even in Sunnydale that night.” Spike was looking at her in the same way he sometimes did when she read something aloud in his class, his adoring expression making her wish they were alone for just a moment.

“Wait, what?” Riley exclaimed, standing from his chair. “You were on a date? With him?” 

Mr. Finn opened and closed his mouth several times while the room grew loud again with the sound of excited conversations. Harmony was sulking in her chair and the rest of the committee members appeared to be confused about their role in this new situation.

“I…” Mr. Finn cleared his throat loudly. “Quiet down!” The chatter subsided briefly. “This is a very serious matter, Miss Summers.”

Buffy shrugged. “But not one that involves your committee.”

Dr. Giles stepped up beside her and she watched him nervously out of the corner of her eye. “True,” the Dean rumbled, shooting her an exasperated look. “The university will look into this. In the meantime, if you’re quite finished…”

Mr. Finn sighed, giving up on controlling the room entirely. “We’re done here. But don’t let me catch you stepping one toe out of line!” He glared at Spike, who appeared unfazed as he stood up and reached a hand out to Buffy. She slipped her palm into his and smiled. Over his shoulder she could see Riley gesturing wildly while Sam glared and Harmony waited nearby, looking bored. The voices in the room blended into a constant buzz. Even the committee members appeared to be having a loud discussion.

“Buffy,” Spike murmured under his breath, pulling her to his side and leaning in until his nose brushed against the shell of her ear. She felt him ghost a kiss across her hair. “You’re something else, kitten, you know that?”

She turned and reached for his crooked tie with her free hand, tugging the knot until it was straight again and smoothing her hand down the fabric. “It was wrong, what they were doing,” she said quietly, looking up and meeting his blue eyes. “I couldn’t let that happen to you.”

A hand grasped Spike’s elbow, reminding Buffy of where they were. “Yes, wonderful, everyone’s thrilled to know you’re simply breaking university rules instead of committing treason,” Dr. Giles muttered in exasperation. “We’ve got to go, Spike.”

“I just need…” Buffy started, her hand slipping from Spike’s.

“Miss Summers,” Dr. Giles said firmly. “You need to get to the rest of your classes.”

Buffy stared at him in confusion as he tugged Spike away. “But…”

“Good day.”

Spike barely had time to grab his hat before being hauled out the door by the Dean. The last thing Buffy saw was his sorrowful expression as the heavy wooden doors closed behind him. Slowly, she realized there were several sets of eyes on her as the people around her continued their conversations. She would not cry, she told herself. She’d see Spike later and tomorrow everyone would find something else to gossip about. Buffy gathered her school things and headed for the door, passing by a group of women her mom’s age who frowned disapprovingly at her. Buffy picked up her pace before they could say anything.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.


	23. He's Gone

Buffy wasn’t going to be able to remember a thing from her afternoon lectures, other than the droning voices of her professors while she stared blankly at the chalkboard and wondered if she’d ever see Spike again. Between classes she paced restlessly though the halls of the English department, but neither the Dean nor Spike made an appearance.

Finally, the day was over. She walked home in a daze. All she wanted to do was climb into her bed and sleep, hoping that tomorrow when she awoke this would all just be a terrible dream.

The back door squeaked when she opened it, making Buffy wince. She’d really been hoping to sneak upstairs before her mother saw her. She was relieved when she heard Joyce talking on the phone in the living room. Grateful for the distraction, Buffy headed for the staircase, dropping her books on the table in the foyer on her way by.

“Buffy Anne!” Joyce called in her most don’t-mess-with-me voice. Buffy froze, her foot hovering over the first riser. If she went upstairs, her mother would just follow her. Sighing, she turned to face the living room doorway just as Joyce appeared.

“Yes, Mother?”

“Don’t you take that tone with me! I’ve heard from both Judith and Nancy down the street about you skipping school to go to the courthouse this morning. And that you’re involved with some professor! What were you thinking, Buffy? Do you know the kinds of things people are going to say about this family?”

“I was going to tell you,” Buffy said weakly. “I just…”

“What kind of man picks up college girls?” Joyce continued, her hands on her hips and her eyes flashing. “He should be ashamed of himself, taking advantage of you like that!”

“He didn’t-”

“I’ve got half a mind to go down there and demand to know how they let this happen,” Joyce interrupted. “Who is he? Nevermind, I’m sure they’ll know who I mean.” She glanced towards the front door.

“No!” Buffy exclaimed, moving between her mother and the front door. “Mom, please don’t. He didn’t do anything wrong, it was me. He said we shouldn’t, at first, but I wouldn’t listen because I…I…”

“You what?” Joyce stared at Buffy, bewildered.

“I love him,” Buffy whispered, feeling a tear escape and slide down her cheek.

Joyce’s lips were pressed together in a thin line. “That’s ridiculous, Buffy, you hardly know him.”

Buffy didn’t know how to explain how much more alive she’d felt since Spike had come into her life, and how dull her time with Riley seemed now. “Well, I do.”

“It is inappropriate, and it ends now,” Joyce replied tersely. “Go wash up for supper.”

As Buffy slowly climbed the stairs, her feet like lead, she heard her mother begin to dial another number on the phone.

***

Buffy hadn’t made it back downstairs for supper. She’d spent a long time in the bath, and an even longer time carefully rolling her hair into pin curls. She wasn’t quite sure what she should be prepared for. She hoped with all her heart that somehow the Dean would see his way to forgiving her and Spike’s indiscretion, though she knew that was probably wishful thinking. One thing she was sure of: Spike would never leave without saying goodbye, and she wanted him to remember her at her best. She’d found a spring-green floral print skirt in the back of her closet and carefully laid it out, making sure the hem fell just above her knees, before going to bed.

The morning dawned cool and clear and Buffy numbly went through her morning routine. Her eyes were scratchy from lack of sleep and she had to add a bit of extra blusher to give her cheeks a healthy glow. Her hair she pinned back on one side, leaving the rest to curl around her face. Mascara and a swipe of her ‘In Bloom’ lipstick completed the picture.

She dug around in her top drawer until she found the silver and emerald teardrops earrings her father had given her to make up for missing her high school graduation. She’d worn them once, feeling wonderfully glamorous, only to have Riley teasingly call her princess the entire day, bowing and making his friends laugh with his exaggerated manners until she’d quietly slipped them off and tucked them away.

The kitchen was quiet. Buffy forced herself to have some toast, careful not to drip any butter on her white blouse. She hadn’t bothered doing up the top three buttons. She set off for school before her mother came downstairs, hope and dread warring in her stomach.

The walk was uneventful, but the closer Buffy got to campus, the harder her heart pounded. What if she hadn’t done the right thing? Spike could still lose his job and be forced to leave, and other universities might frown on dalliances with his students with as much contempt as they did communists. What if she’d made everything worse? She clutched her book anxiously to her chest and headed towards the English department.

Buffy passed a group of students and caught the tail end of a conversation that stuttered to a halt, as though that wasn’t enough of a clue for her to guess what they were gossiping about. Maybe she could still fix this. What if she left school so Spike could stay? She could…well, she wasn’t sure what she could do, maybe finish her degree at another college? But then she’d have to leave Sunnydale, and Spike. She wondered if he’d find another woman right away, or if he might miss her for a while.

She stood in the middle of the quad and stared blankly at the buildings around her, wondering if all the happy memories she had of this place were going to be tainted forever by Riley and his need to lie and cheat his way out of trouble.

“Buffy!” Willow called from across the quad. The red bandanna she had tied around her head to keep her hair back was slightly askew and her eyes were bright with curiosity as she hurried toward Buffy. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, what happened?” Her voice dropped as she got closer. “Something’s going around about Professor Pratt leaving!”

Buffy’s heart sank, and she felt her lower lip tremble. “I…” She tried to blink back her tears, but didn’t quite succeed. Hastily, she swiped at her cheeks. “Oh, Willow, I ruined everything.”

“What?” Willow clasped her elbow and gently drew her over to a low wall for them to perch on, out of the path of the other students. “Buffy, what do you mean?”

Buffy sat down heavily on the hard stone wall and stared dejectedly at the books in her lap. “It’s all my fault, I ruined it.” She sniffled miserably. “Spike probably wishes he’d never met me.”

Patting Buffy’s knee ineffectively, Willow made soothing noises. “I’m sure that’s not true, Buffy.”

“It is,” Buffy managed to say without bursting into tears. “First I left his book in the car where those goons found it, and then the only way I could keep them from labeling him a communist and making him leave was to tell them he’d been with me and not at that stupid socialist meeting.”

The patting stopped abruptly. “What meeting?” Willow whispered nervously.

Buffy looked up, surprised, at her friend’s worried face. “The one you gave me the flyer for?”

Willow’s hand squeezed Buffy’s leg. “They know who was at the meeting?” she squeaked.

Buffy frowned. “I don’t think so. Harmony lied about seeing Spike there, even though we…” she trailed off, staring down at the cracked cement under her feet. “Even though we were on a date,” she finished softly. “So that’s what I told them.”

“Uh, that Harmony lied?”

Buffy nodded, her gaze still fixed on the pavement. “Yeah, and that he couldn’t have been there because he was with me.”

She heard Willow’s sharp inhale and looked up. Her friend’s eyes were wide. “You told them you were out with the professor?”

“It was the only way I could think to…” Buffy stared over Willow’s shoulder, where a group of boys in letterman jackets were laughing and slapping one another on the back. Riley had probably gotten what he wanted after all. Spike’s accusation of cheating would get swept under the rug because of her, and the football team would be back on the field. She might have saved Spike from being putting on the list of communist Reds, but everything else was in shambles. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Oh, Buffy,” Willow said softly. “Maybe…” She seemed at a loss for words for the first time in all the years Buffy had known her. Finally, Willow sighed. “Let’s go to class, maybe he’ll be there and you can talk to him.”

“Do you think he’ll be mad?” 

Willow stood up and offered her hand to Buffy, helping her stand as well. “After everything you’ve told me about him, I can’t imagine he why he would be,” Willow assured her. She tucked her hand into the crook of Buffy’s elbow. “Come on, let’s go.” A group of cheerleaders in their uniforms walked by, giggling behind their hands and whispering as they cast sidelong glances at Buffy. “Ignore them,” Willow said firmly. “They’re just under the patriarchy’s thumb.”

Buffy obediently followed her friend to their first class. When they arrived and Spike wasn’t standing at the front of the lecture hall, she thought she might burst into tears again. She and Willow claimed their usual spots and Buffy trained her eyes on the door, willing Spike to walk through it. Some of the other students were craning their necks in her direction, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. It didn’t matter what they thought of her, as long as Spike wasn’t angry with her. He hadn’t seemed to be yesterday, but that was probably before the consequences of what she’d done had fully sunk in. She bit her lip nervously.

The door of the classroom finally opened to admit a man in a hat, making Buffy sit up straight in her chair, only to realize in the next moment that it wasn’t Spike. She stared in dismay as Dr. Giles strode to the front of the room and set his briefcase on the corner of the desk where Spike usually perched. He took off his hat and his eyes casually wandered the room until the student’s voices all petered out.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning, Dr. Giles,” the students all chorused. Buffy almost stopped breathing as his eyes slid over her. She gripped the edge of her desk tightly.

“While I’m sure many of you have heard the wild speculation going around campus, I trust you’re intelligent enough to know it would be foolish to pass judgment when you’re not in possession of all the facts. I don’t want to hear a word about it.” Several students shifted in their seats. “Now,” Dr. Giles moved to the chalkboard, “please open your readers to the section on sonnets. We’ve got quite a lot to cover before the final exam.” He started writing down page numbers on the board.

Buffy clamped her mouth shut to keep from demanding to know where Spike was, and Willow reached over to open the neglected book on Buffy’s desk to the correct page. Buffy stared down at the text without seeing it as the Dean began his lecture.

***

The class dragged on and on, and more than once Buffy considered slipping away to see if Spike was in his office. Even if he’d been fired, they’d let him pack up his things, wouldn’t they? Impatiently, Buffy tapped her pen against her notebook. She’d just made up her mind to leave, regardless of the consequences, when class finally ended. She let out a sigh of relief and hastily gathered her things.

“Buffy-” Willow began.

“I’ll see you later,” Buffy interrupted. She joined the exodus and had almost reached the classroom door when someone called her name. Furrowing her brow, she turned to see Dr. Giles.

“Miss Summers,” he repeated. “Please join me in my office for a moment?”

Buffy didn’t miss the way several students glanced at her curiously, nor the way Dr. Giles turned a stern look on them. She was grateful that at least he didn’t seem to be too mad at her, even if she’d caused his godson to lose his job. “Yes, sir.”

She followed him down the hall to his office, slipping inside as he held open the door for her. She perched on the edge of the chair in front of his desk and waited at he settled in his seat. He let out a gusty sigh and she wilted a little. She’d never wanted to cause all this trouble. “Dr. Giles,” Buffy started. “I’m really sorry about everything that’s happened. I promise I never meant to…”

He held up a hand to forestall her. “Miss Summers,” he said wearily. “I’ve already heard it all from William.”

Buffy tried to keep her lower lip from trembling at the mention of Spike. “You have?”

Dr. Giles reached up and took off his wire-rimmed glasses, holding them between two fingers while he massages his temple with the other hand. “He’s barely stopped trying to explain everything since yesterday morning. I’ve also spoken with your mother, and quite frankly I think I’ve heard more than enough.”

Buffy’s whole body was so rigid she felt frozen in place. “I see.” She looked the Dean squarely in the eye. “Well, then you should know that I’ll be leaving school.”

Dr. Giles nearly dropped his glasses, fumbling with them for a moment before regaining his composure and pulling out a handkerchief from his jacket pocket to polish the lenses. “What?”

He seemed genuinely upset, which puzzled Buffy. She’d thought it would be the perfect solution. “I’ll leave so you don’t have to fire Spi–Professor Pratt.”

“So I don’t…” Dr. Giles trailed off. “My dear girl, he hasn’t been fired.”

Buffy blinked in astonishment as the heavy feeling in her limbs slowly began to fade. “He hasn’t?” she squeaked.

Dr. Giles put his glasses back on. “No, he has not, though it was discussed.” He gave her a stern look. “I assure you the administration takes this sort of flagrant disregard of propriety very seriously.”

Buffy nodded cautiously.

“However, during the course of the cheating investigation, it was discovered that there has been, ah, rather a lot of impropriety between the staff and several members of the cheerleading squad, for much less noble intentions.” He frowned. “We’d have to fire half the damn faculty.” His face cleared a moment later. “However, their lack of decorum has given Spike a bit of a reprieve, since the administration would rather not let the alumni get wind of this.”

“Oh,” Buffy said lamely, not sure what the alumni had to do with anything.

Dr. Giles leaned forward, his gaze sharp. “And I’ve assured them the alumni would almost certainly find out should William be fired.” He smirked. “The donations would dry up rather quickly.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

Dr. Giles leaned back in his chair. “As for you, Miss Summers, I’d like to see you remain here, but under one stipulation.”

Buffy braced herself. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Spike, but if that’s what it took to allow him to continue as a professor here she wouldn’t be the one to ruin it again. She’d just have to do her best to stay away from him. Her heart ached with emptiness already.

“You cannot take any of his classes,” Dr. Giles continued. “And the two of you must be circumspect on campus, is that clear?” He eyed her for a moment. “Your mother I’ll leave to you.” 

It took a second for the words to sink in. Buffy stared at the Dean in bewilderment as she realized he wasn’t telling her she couldn’t see Spike anymore. “I…oh, thank you,” she breathed. If there hadn’t been a desk in her way, she was sure she would have hugged the breath out of the poor Dean. “Thank you, Dr. Giles, you don’t know what this means to me.”

Dr. Giles looked faintly embarrassed as he cleared his throat. “Yes, well, off you go.” He began to shuffle through his paperwork as she stood on shaky legs and headed for the door, her mind a dizzying whirl of relief and happiness. “I believe William’s in his office, if you’d like to say hello.”

***

Buffy stood in front of Spike’s office door. Someone had replaced his temporary nameplate with a more permanent one that read: Dr. William Pratt.

She knocked on the door, feeling nervous and giddy at the same time. He wasn’t being fired and she didn’t have to switch schools, but she still wasn’t sure if he’d be happy to see her. She’d nearly ruined everything for him, just like he’d feared. And now everyone was gossiping about them, even though Spike had wanted to keep their relationship a secret. She’d almost convinced herself she should just walk away when the door finally opened.

“Yeah…Buffy!” Spike stared at her, clearly surprised. He seemed to be in the midst of organizing his office. His tie was loose around his neck, the top button of his shirt undone, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He’d never looked more handsome.

Buffy shifted the books in her arms uncertainly. “Um, can I come in?” 

Spike seemed to shake himself. “Of course.” He stepped back to allow her inside before closing the door and locking it behind her. “I’m technically not here today,” he said as an explanation, tucking his hands into his pants pockets instead of kissing her breathless, which was what she’d truly been hoping for.

“Oh,” Buffy dropped her gaze to the floor, not wanting him to see her disappointment. “Well, I shouldn’t disturb you then.” She took a step towards the door.

“No, that’s not…” Spike looked faintly alarmed. “Please, stay. If you have time,” he amended.

She peeked up at him though her lashes. “I have time,” Buffy said. “I just wanted to tell you I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what else to do and everyone seemed to believe Harmony’s ridiculous story and…well, I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”

The edges of Spike’s mouth had turned down during her little speech, and she braced herself for a stiff acceptance of her apology before he ushered her out the door and told her in so many words that she was more trouble than she was worth.

“What?” he said instead. “Hurt? Kitten, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I should be apologizing to you for putting you in that situation. You were amazing.” He moved closer to her, gently taking her school things and setting them on a nearby shelf. Almost all of his books were off the floor and in their proper places now. Even his desk was neat, with just his hat and a stack of papers on it.

“You’re not mad?”

“Why the hell would I be mad?” Spike sounded confused. “I’m kicking myself that you had to tell everyone like that. If I hadn’t been such a coward and just fessed up to begin with, we could have avoided that circus.”

It was Buffy’s turn to be confused. “You don’t mind people knowing about us?”  

“Of course not.” Spike frowned. “Have a hard enough time hiding my feelings for you as it is.”

The butterflies in Buffy’s stomach took flight, soaring into her chest. “Oh,” she breathed.

Spike’s hands settled on her hips. “Should have seen you,” he said reverently. “My own Lady Justice, coming to balance the scales. I’d be mad not to love you.”

Buffy’s breath hitched. “You…you…” She couldn’t seem to find the words to finish her thought. Spike’s eyes searched her face anxiously, and she fisted her hands into his shirt to keep him close while she tried to find her voice again. “Spike,” she managed, feeling like she might fly into a thousand pieces if he wasn’t there to ground her. He loved her, he’d said. Maybe she wasn’t a passing fancy after all. 

Some of the tension left Spike’s posture as his arms circled her waist and he pulled her close. “Alright, kitten?” He lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss to her temple, then her cheek, and finally her lips as she tilted her head back and melted against him.

“I love you,” she murmured against his mouth. “I told Dr. Giles I was going to leave school so you could stay, but…”

“What?” Spike pulled back and she wondered in alarm if she’d been wrong. “Buffy-” His expression softened. “Love you too, kitten, but you need to promise me something.”

She relaxed again, lowering her gaze and smoothing her hands over his wrinkled shirt. “What’s that?”

Spike’s hand tipped her head back so he was looking into her eyes. “Promise me you’ll never give up your dreams, not even for me, you understand?”

Buffy stared at him for a long moment, her heart full to the brim. “I won’t,” she finally said. “But I’m going to need your help with a lot of them.”

The smile that split his face was beautiful. “That so?” he murmured, bending to kiss her again. Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck and parted her lips, deepening the kiss. Spike groaned, his hands slipping down to cup her bottom and pull her flush against him. She could feel his hardness against her hip, and a thrill ran through her. “Any I can help with right now?” he rumbled in her ear.

“Yes, please,” Buffy replied breathlessly. She tugged him along as she backed up until she bumped into his desk, pulling his head down for another lingering kiss. “I want you to make love to me right here,” she whispered, hardly believing the words coming out of her mouth. She was sure her face was bright red.

Spike responded with a low growl that had her nipples tightening. He lifted her up so she was perched on the edge of the desk, his hands sliding up her thighs under her skirt. Buffy parted her legs so he could step between them and align his hardness with her center. He was grinding against her and making her moan as his tongue swept through her mouth. She yanked impatiently on his tie until it came undone, tossing it aside. Spike began undoing the buttons of her blouse, and she returned the favor, unbuttoning his shirt down to his waist.

“Buffy,” he murmured, kissing her collarbone as he managed to undo the front clasp of her bra. His hands cupped her breasts and he trailed kisses down her cleavage while his clever fingers teased her nipples. Buffy found his belt buckle, her hands trembling with impatience and a little bit of nervousness. She’d never imagined herself as the kind of girl who would do something this wild, but Spike made her feel like she could do anything.

His mouth was working its way up her throat, and she tipped her head back as she undid his belt. Spike pulled away from her and she looked up, concerned, only to see him staring at her with an expression that made the place between her legs throb. “Up, kitten,” he urged, his hands stroking her inner thighs before stripping off her panties and pushing her further up onto his desk. Her hand knocked his hat to the floor, but Spike didn’t even bat an eyelash as he crawled up to join her. He swept aside the papers and sent them sailing through the air.

Buffy couldn’t seem to catch her breath as he moved over her. He shook his button-up shirt off his shoulders and stripped off his undershirt while she lay back, watching him. Her fingers trailed over the soft skin of his chest and stomach, memorizing the dips and ridges of his torso while he gazed at her in adoration.

He bent down and kissed her slowly, coaxing her tongue into his mouth. His fingers glided up the inside of her thigh until they reached her center, stroking her intimate parts in a way that made her gasp. Spike’s tongue delved into her mouth at the same time his fingers delved into her core and she lost herself to the sensations of being loved by him. His thumb was sweeping over that perfect spot between her legs that made her tremble and shake.

“Spike!” Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck and keened out his name as the feeling building in her lower belly boiled over and shot though her veins. She bucked up against his hand, greedily wishing for another. “Please,” she gasped. 

“Anything for my girl,” he breathed, nuzzling her neck. She heard him lowering the zipper of his slacks and reached down to help, wrapping her hand around his erect cock and making him groan. “Not yet, love,” he whispered, kicking his pants off his legs. “Come here.” His hands helped her sit up until she was in his lap, his cock trapped between them. Buffy clutched his shoulders as he maneuvered them so that he was the one lying back on the desk and she was staring down at him, her hands braced against his heaving chest. “God, look at you,” he said in awe, reaching up to caress her bare breasts before one hand crept up further to gently touch an earring. “ _Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel_.” 

Every word of praise made her sit up a little taller. Slowly, she lost her unease at the unfamiliar position and settled herself more firmly across his hips. His hardness was pressing insistently against her, but she wanted it inside her. She shifted a little, trying to figure out how to move. “Lift up,” Spike coaxed, pushing aside her skirt. Buffy rose up on her knees and Spike took one of her hands, guiding it down to wrap around his cock. “It’s all yours kitten, do whatever you like.”

Buffy bit her lip and gazed down at him, taking in his trusting gaze and messy crown of hair. She didn’t know how she’d gotten so lucky as to know this man. Carefully, she lined up her core with his hard cock and began to sink down on it, gasping as he filled her inch by inch. Spike’s eyelids fluttered and he groaned long and low. “Oh, christ,” he hissed out.

Lifting up a little bit, Buffy pushed back down, feeling her inner walls stretching to accommodate him. This time she was almost able to take him all inside of her. Once more she lifted up and slowly sank down, gasping he finally filled her completely. She paused a moment and Spike cracked open his eyes. His hands tightened on her hips. “Okay?” he asked, his voice strained.

Nodding, Buffy pushed herself up, feeling his cock sliding easily inside her now. Spike’s hands helped her set a rhythm as she began to move. Mumbled syllables and half-words that might have been her name were escaping Spike’s lips as she continued to ride him. She braced herself against his chest and closed her eyes.

Her entire body was throbbing with pleasure, but the pulsing wave radiating out from her center still caught her by surprise, making her cry out as Spike bucked up under her on the desk. He urged her on, his hands gripping her hips as she moved until he bowed up under her, groaning, his fingers clutching her tight. Finally, his grip relaxed and his whole body seemed to go boneless. Buffy collapsed onto his chest, panting, while his hands gently petted her quivering thighs.

She felt him press a kiss to the side of her head. “I’ll help you with any dream you’d like, kitten, from now until forever,” he said, his voice raspy. Buffy didn’t doubt him for a moment.


	24. I Can’t Help Myself (Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch)

PRESENT DAY

Anya yawned widely. She was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the chair she’d been occupying most the evening and as close as she could get to Xander without touching him. “I hope they wake up soon, this is taking forever.”

Willow squinted at the various unconscious bodies around the room and sighed heavily. She was stretched out on the couch with her head in Tara’s lap, her half-filled scotch glass abandoned on the floor. “Even longer than the first time,” she mumbled. “I wonder if that means anything?”

Tara gently stroked her girlfriend’s hair. “Maybe how far the dream has to go to make fantasy and reality meet?”

Willow raised her eyebrows. “Huh, maybe, I never thought of that. Boy, that doesn’t bode well for Riley.”

Anya snorted. “I told Xander this wasn’t going to work. He might be unhappy about Spike but Buffy certainly isn’t.”

“That’s…” Willow trailed off, her nose wrinkling. “Pretty true,” she finished, sounding surprised. “She really has been happy, even with all that awfulness about her mom and Glory and the whole running-out-of-money thing.”

Tara looked over towards Spike and Buffy, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I really think we should all try harder to accept Spike. Buffy deserves to be happy.”

Willow’s nose wrinkled further. “Can’t she find someone else to make her happy?”

“That’s not fair, Willow,” Tara stopped her petting and frowned down at her girlfriend. “Don’t you think some people would say the same thing about you and me?”

Willow looked up guiltily. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll try and be nicer to Spike.”

“Great plan, and it avoids all of these pointless meetings,” Anya mumbled, her head lolling back against the armchair.  

“Do you think Buffy’s going to be mad at us?” Willow asked in a small voice.

“Yes,” Anya said immediately. Willow flinched.

“Probably just for a little while,” Tara soothed. “We’ll have to make an extra effort, I think. Maybe we could talk to her about renting one of the rooms in her house instead of staying at the dorms? We’re over there a lot to help with Dawn anyways.”

Willow stifled a yawn. “Yeah, that might be kinda fun, having us all there together. Just the girls.”

“And Spike,” Tara reminded her.

“And Spike,” Willow amended reluctantly. “Do you think he’ll be there a lot?”

“Probably, sweetie,” Tara sounded amused. “Since he’s her boyfriend.”

“I think he’s been helping too,” Anya said absently, her eyes on Xander. “With Dawn and everything. He seems to always be just leaving when Xander and I show up.”

Willow let out another gusty sigh. “I think we might have really messed up getting Riley involved in this.”

“Well,” Tara resumed her petting, “then we’ll really have to make it up to her.”   

“Maybe she’ll end up appreciating whatever fantasy she’s living out right now, like she did last time,” Anya suggested sleepily. “Especially if Spike’s a cowboy again.”

“Maybe,” Tara mused. There was a long pause. “At least now I know why there was a cowboy hat in the living room last week.”

They all broke out into giggles.

***

“Buffy, telephone!”

Buffy finished pinning back her hair and did a quick twirl to make sure it would stay put. “Coming!” she called down to her mother. Her dress was a pretty turquoise blue with a shoulder-revealing neckline that wouldn’t scandalize her mother but would make Spike do that appreciative once over she was becoming very fond of.

The last week had flown by in a blur of studying and nosy classmates who’d never bothered to talk to Buffy before but now were suddenly very interested in her private life. She’d taken to avoiding them by staying in the library with Willow and Tara or, when he wasn’t teaching, sneaking a moment with Spike in his office. Dr. Giles had taken over the class Buffy was in, and while it was still interesting, she missed the passion Spike had for whatever poem they were discussing. Maybe she could ask him to read her something later. She smiled at her reflection before hurrying downstairs.

“Hello?” she said breathlessly into the receiver.

“Buffy! It’s Willow.”

“Hey, Willow.” Buffy furrowed her brow. “Is everything alright?”

“What? Oh, no, I’m fine,” Willow assured her. “I just wanted to ask if it was okay to bring Tara along tomorrow? I know it’s usually just you, me, and Xander, but…”

Buffy smiled. “Of course! I guess I’d just assumed you would bring her. She’s totally welcome.”

“Oh, good.” There was a short silence. “I really like her, Buffy.” There was a serious note in Willow’s tone that told Buffy she was wearing her resolve face.

Buffy glanced towards the kitchen, where she could hear her mother singing along to the radio that had appeared out of the blue a couple days ago. Hank never would have allowed something as frivolous as a radio in the kitchen, but Buffy was starting to think this business trip might be indefinite. Her mother was taking it better than Buffy had expected. She and Joyce had been at odds about Buffy’s new beau for the better part of the week, but things were finally calming down. Her mother seemed to slowly be coming around, and the more Buffy talked about Spike, the more she saw her mother softening.

Buffy lowered her voice. “I know you do, Willow, and I think she’s really great for you.”

“Yeah?” Willow asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Buffy said firmly. “So I’ll see you both tomorrow?”

“We’ll be there, Buffy. Oh!” Willow added excitedly. “I wanted to tell you: the Freedom of Art and Expression meetings were moved to another place, even though it doesn’t seem like anyone really saw us last time, but I can tell you where they are if you and Prof-, I mean, Spike want to come.” 

“I’ll talk to him,” Buffy said warmly. “Thanks, Willow. Bye.”

“Bye!”

There was a click as Willow hung up the phone on her end, and Buffy gently placed the receiver on the cradle just as the doorbell rang.

Joyce came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. While she wasn’t keen on Buffy’s choice of boyfriend (yet) she seemed to have embraced her daughter’s way of dressing. Buffy hadn’t seen her mother’s pearls in days, and today Joyce was wearing grey slacks and a pale blue blouse that made her look like quite a modern woman.

“I suppose that’s him.” Joyce said critically.

Buffy gave her mother an exasperated look. “Yes, and I’d really like you to try and get to know him. He’s important to me, Mom.” 

Joyce paused for a moment, taking in her daughter. “You really have grown up, haven’t you dear?”

“I really have,” Buffy replied, giving her mother a small smile.

Joyce crossed the foyer and swung the door open to reveal Spike standing on the other side with a bouquet of flowers and a nervous expression on his face. A pair of black slacks and shiny shoes peeked out from under his long black coat, and Buffy’s red scarf was tucked in under the collar. His hair was slicked back and the moment his eyes landed on Buffy, hovering behind Joyce’s shoulder, his eyes lit up. Buffy gave him a tiny wave and smiled encouragingly.

“Uh, Hello Mrs. Summers. Brought these for you.” He thrust the flowers in Buffy’s mother’s direction.

Joyce looked startled. “Thank you?” She took the bouquet from him and seemed to be searching for something to say. “Won’t you come in?”

“Thanks.” Spike stepped inside and gave her a charming grin. “Getting a bit cold out there now. Winter’s finally settling in.” He turned his smile on Buffy, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the way she loved. “Hello, Buffy.”

“Spike,” she said softly. “Mother, this is William Pratt.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Joyce said pointedly.

“And you, Mrs. Summers,” Spike said, seemingly unfazed. “Appreciate the dinner invitation.”

“Well, I thought it might be nice to get to know the gentleman my daughter’s apparently been seeing behind my back.”

Spike’s expression turned sheepish. “Yeah, sorry about that. Would have shouted it from the rooftops if it’d been a tad less complicated.”

Joyce’s rigid posture relaxed slightly. “I hope you like roast beef.”

Spike glanced over at Buffy, his secret-smile flitting across his face. “One of my favorite meals.”

Buffy hoped her mother wouldn’t ask why she was blushing. “Here, Mom, let me take care of those for you,” Buffy took the flowers and shot Spike a grin as she headed for the kitchen. While Joyce had made the pie, Buffy had taken charge of the rest of the dinner tonight. With a little guidance and some discussion about oven temperatures, this one was shaping up to be much less disastrous than the last time Spike had been over. Though she supposed he really hadn’t seemed to mind. If only he could stay afterwards again, it would be a perfect night.

She could hear her mother and Spike as they moved into the living room. Spike was complimenting the house while Joyce offered him a martini, which Spike declined in favor of something Buffy couldn’t quite make out. Something on the rocks? Buffy pulled out a vase and filled it with water, sticking the flowers in and giving them a nice fluff. She was contemplating where to put them when Spike wandered into the kitchen, followed closely by a puzzled-looking Joyce. He’d shed his coat and scarf, revealing a long-sleeved black button-up shirt.

“Here you are,” Spike said warmly. “Can I help with something?”

Joyce blinked at the back of Spike’s head in astonishment and Buffy couldn’t resist lifting up on her tiptoes and brushing a kiss across his cheek. “You’re a guest, you’re supposed to be guesting.”

Spike made a scoffing noise. “And miss all the fun? Here, I’ll take these to the table.” He set his highball glass on the kitchen counter and picked up the flowers, heading towards the dining room.

Joyce watched him go with a thoughtful expression. “Well, he’s certainly not like any other professor I’ve met.”

Buffy grinned at her mother. “Told you.”

***

“You’re kidding!” Willow laughed beside her in the soda shop booth. Tara was on her other side, looking on and smiling.

Buffy shook her head. “No, she really asked when he’d be coming by for dinner again, and called him charming—twice.”

“After swearing he was evil for trying to…how did she put it? Corrupt her baby?”

“Apparently, all it takes to win over my mother is manners and an appreciation of some obscure artist I’ve never heard of. I didn’t even know Mom was into art!”

Willow slurped the last of her chocolate malt, still giggling, as Xander joined them, taking off his paper hat and sliding into the booth next to Anya while noisily kissing her cheek. “Finally,” he sighed happily. “And how are all my favorite girls?”

“Buffy’s mom has decided she likes Professor Pratt,” Willow said cheerfully. “So hopefully she’ll stop calling Dr. Giles to complain about him.”

“Maybe,” Buffy mused. “But from the grilling Spike got at dinner I think she kind of enjoys her chats with Dr. Giles.”

Xander made a face. “Great,” he said, sounding less-than-enthusiastic. “But seriously Buff, are you sure about this professor guy? He seems kinda…I don’t know, the complete opposite of your type.”

“You mean Riley?” Buffy asked, lifting her eyebrows. “I sure hope so. The last thing I want is someone who’ll lie and cheat their way through our whole relationship again.” She gave Anya a warm smile. “I think we all deserve a little happiness, don’t you?”

“I’d like quite a lot of happiness,” Anya responded, sending Xander an entirely unsubtle wink.

Xander fumbled with his hat and it sailed off the table onto the floor. “Uh, yeah, happiness is great. For everyone.” His face was beet red and Buffy caught even Tara hiding a smile at his bashfulness. He’d been talking nonstop about Anya when she wasn’t hanging out in the soda shop and keeping him company before and after her shifts at the drive-in. It was obvious he was infatuated, and she seemed just as thrilled with him.

“For everyone,” Buffy agreed. She reached over and patted Willow’s knee under the table to include her and Tara.

“I hope he’s not bothering you,” Anya told Buffy, her expression turning serious. “Ex-boyfriends can be such a nuisance.”

“Who, Riley?” Buffy asked. “I haven’t seen him since Spike’s trial, actually. Dr. Giles said that he was expelled and half the football team is still on academic probation. Mom told me she heard the Finns were looking into some kind of military school on the east coast for him. I guess his dad has some friends who teach there.”

Xander shook his head. “Man, I still can’t believe what a jerk he turned out to be. I mean, he had everything and he totally blew it. We didn’t even make the playoffs! What was he thinking?”

“I guess some people just can’t appreciate what’s right in front of them,” Tara responded softy.

Lifting her mostly-empty chocolate malt glass, Buffy tipped it towards her gathered friends. “Well, I appreciate all of you. Thanks for being there for me, guys.”

“Of course!” Willow said, looking surprised. “I mean, I’m still totally impressed with how you threw off the yoke of the establishment, Buffy. I thought for sure you’d bought into Riley’s view of the world.”

“I think I almost did,” Buffy mused. “But I never would have been happy.” 

“Hey, you guys want to go down to that new diner that just opened?” Xander asked. His bowtie had disappeared and his shirt collar button had been popped. Anya was leaning against him and finishing her malt.

Willow glanced at Tara, who nodded, before turning back to Xander. “Sure, we’re in.”

Xander looked at Buffy expectantly, but she shook her head. “Sorry, Xand, I’ve got plans.”

“Do they involve someone in an unfairly cool black car?” Xander asked. “Because I think he just pulled up.”

Buffy turned in her seat and spotted Spike just as he was getting out of the driver’s door. Her heart fluttered like it always did when she saw him, and she wondered if it’d do the same decades from now when she caught sight of him. She was almost certain it would. He pulled open the soda shop door and walked inside, a grin crossing his face as he spotted her. No one else had the power to make her feel so special with just a look.

Spike was wearing his usual casual attire: dark jeans and a black short sleeved button up, but Buffy had dressed up a little bit. She’d found a russet-gold dress while out shopping with her mother, and despite the halter-style neckline that left most of her back bare, her mother had hardly batted an eyelash when Buffy’d chosen it. She was wearing her black sweater over it at the moment, but she couldn’t wait to see Spike’s face when he saw it.

“Evening, all,” Spike stopped at their table and gave a polite nod. “Mind if I steal my girl?” He held out his hand and Buffy slipped hers into it, letting him pull her up from the booth. His eyes raked over her appreciatively and she shivered a little.

“We’re thinking of heading over to that new diner,” Xander said. There was a slight pause. “Uh, do you want to come?”

Buffy could have hugged her friend in that moment. Spike looked surprised, but recovered quickly. He glanced at her and her heart melted, but she had other plans for him tonight. She gave a tiny shake of her head and Spike turned back to Xander. “Afraid we’ve got a reservation, mate. Another time?”

Xander’s face went from doubtful to relaxed in a matter of seconds. “Sure, sounds good. Hey, what kind of car is that?”

“DeSoto,” Spike replied, helping Buffy into her jacket before taking her hand and linking their fingers together. “Been good to me so far. You know much about cars?”

“Of course!” Xander frowned. “I mean, I know enough to know I want one.”

“Ooh, get one with a big backseat,” Anya suggested. “How’s the backseat of yours?” She looked between Spike and Buffy expectantly, and Buffy felt her face flush.

Spike grinned. “Know a thing or two about cars myself. Let me know when you start looking, I’d be happy to tag along.”

“Yeah?” Xander lit up. “That’d be great. Thanks.” He waved cheerfully. “You two crazy kids have fun!”

Buffy clasped Spike’s hand a little tighter as they headed out of the soda shop. She saw two of her classmates with their heads close together and their eyes on her and Spike as they passed, but she held her head up high. She had nothing to be ashamed of. Spike loved her and she loved him, and if they’d met in a less-than-conventional way, well, that was just going to make a great story for their grandkids someday.

“Sure you don’t mind leaving your friends tonight, kitten?” Spike asked as he handed her into the car.

“I’m sure,” Buffy said with a smile. “I’ve missed you.”

Spike leaned down and gave her a swift kiss before closing her door and rounding the car, sliding in behind the wheel and turning the key. “I’ve missed you too. Too many eyes around lately.” He reached over and slid his fingers through her hair as she sighed happily.

“Do we really have reservations?” she asked curiously.

“In a manner of speaking.” Spike gently tugged her across the bench seat until she was tucked up under his arm. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of him, and leaned her head against her shoulder as he steered the car across town and up a familiar winding road.

***

The stars were out in full force by the time they reached the cliff, with only the sliver of a moon hovering over the horizon.

Spike parked so they were facing the ocean and turned the car off. In the silence Buffy could hear the engine ticking as it cooled, and far below them, the muted, rhythmic sound of restless surf. She snuggled against Spike’s side and trailed her hand down the front of his shirt.

“Bit cold for picnicking,” Spike murmured against her hair. “But I brought champagne.”

Buffy tipped her head back and smiled up at him. “Sounds perfect.”

He leaned down and kissed her, his hands sliding into her hair and holding her close as they leisurely explored each other’s mouths. Buffy’s hand fisted into his shirt and she could feel Spike’s fingers creeping up her thigh under her skirt.

The car seemed to be warmer than it was a moment before, and she broke the kiss, panting, to shake her jacket off her shoulders. Spike helped her, trailing kisses down her neck while helping her out of her jacket, followed quickly by her sweater. She heard him exhale her name as the low vee of her halter top was revealed, and his kisses continued down into her cleavage. She clutched the back of his neck and gasped as he nudged aside the fabric to take one of her nipples into his mouth. This was definitely going on her list of favorite dresses, right after the red one that she’d worn for their first picnic date.

“Spike,” she breathed.

His name seemed to bring him back to earth, and he released her breast, making her whimper before his lips covered hers once more. “Christ, you look gorgeous,” he murmured in her ear. “I promise I brought you up here for more than just this.”

“You did?” Buffy asked dazedly, sliding her hands down his shirt and searching for his buttons.

Spike gave her his secret smile, leaning his forehead against hers and kissing her gently. “Yes, I did.”

Buffy managed to get a button undone and waited expectantly for him to continue. One of his hands had snuck back up to cup her exposed breast and his thumb was rubbing slow circles over her nipple, making it hard to concentrate.

“Now the job’s more permanent, was thinking of celebrating over the holidays,” he said quietly. He glanced up, his hand stilling. “Would you still like to see New York, kitten?”

Buffy blinked at him as another of his buttons slipped free. “What?”

Spike’s brows drew together, his expression turning nervous. “I just thought, if you’d like, we could maybe go for a couple of weeks? But of course you’ve got your mum and I don’t…”

Buffy wrapped her arms tightly around him and kissed his still-moving lips as he tried to continue. “Yes, please,” she gasped between kisses. “That sounds wonderful!”

Spike made a pleased noise and held her close, though she was surprised when he pulled away and opened the driver’s door a moment later.  A cool breeze swept into the car and made her shiver as Spike rubbed a hand up her arm. “Hang on, we’ll warm you up soon enough.” He adjusted her halter top so it was covering her again and climbed out of the car, pulling her along with him.

She followed, bewildered, as he opened the back door of the car to reveal a cozy pile of blankets and a picnic basket with a champagne bottle sticking out of one side. Spike looked at her sheepishly. “Not quite as romantic as the first time, I’m afraid.”

Buffy laughed, sliding into the seat and reaching out to grasp Spike’s hand, tugging him in after her. She resumed her quest to undo all of his buttons as one of his hands wormed their way under her skirts. “I think it might be even better,” she said breathlessly.

Closing the car door behind him, Spike pulled her in for a deep kiss. Her head was filled with visions of them walking down city streets surrounded by tall buildings, seeing Central Park, and laughing together over intimate dinners before spending the long winter nights tucked away in a big bed, just the two of them. It stole her breath away. Spike found the zipper of her dress and slowly drew it down as she lay back on the seat, pulling him with her. “I love you,” she murmured in his ear. She felt his whole body shudder under her hands.

“ _The world is holy_ ,” he whispered, kissing her collarbone as her dress went slack around her. His lips moved down further as he pushed the fabric down to expose her breasts. “ _The soul is holy.”_ He kissed the top of her breast just over her heart, which was beating like a hummingbird’s. “ _The skin is holy,”_ he continued softy, kissing her peaked nipple. “Buffy.” The last was barely a whisper but she heard it loud and clear. And the love behind it.

She added visiting bookshops to her list of things they’d be doing in New York before surrendering what was left of her brain to the pleasure of his touch.

Her dress slipped to the floor of the car, followed shortly by his button-up, undershirt, and pants. Skin to skin, they moved together, and Buffy found herself wishing on every star she caught a glimpse of that it would be like this forever. 


	25. You're My Baby

“Spike?” Buffy whispered. She was so cozy she really didn’t want to move, but if she got home too late her mother was going to have a fit.

“Hm?” His drowsy voice in her ear made her smile. She wanted to wake up like this every morning.

She stifled a yawn and wondered what time it was. “I probably need to get home.” Spike tightened his arms around her and growled his displeasure. Her smile widened and she managed to crack open one eye, searching for his sweetly messy crown of hair as the world slowly came into focus. Except they weren’t in his car anymore. Buffy’s hand clamped down around his arm. “Spike?”

Spike frowned and his eyelids fluttered. “Yeah, kitten, give me a minute.”

Buffy blinked the sleep from her eyes and her pulse kicked up a notch. This was definitely not Spike’s car, and she was definitely not in the Sunnydale she’d thought she was when she’d first woken up. Slowly, her memories came back as the the strange pull of the dream-world began to fade. “Spike,” she said again urgently. Riley was lying on the floor at Spike’s feet and starting to stir. “Please, wake up.”

Spike finally cracked open one eye. “What’s wrong?” he asked, only to open both of his eyes wide a moment later. “Oh, buggering fuck,” he muttered.

Buffy loosened her hold on his arm and ran a hand down his chest. Thank goodness whatever army jerks Riley had sent out hadn’t gotten to Spike. “You’re okay,” she said, relieved. “I was worried.”

Spike glared at Riley and snorted. “As if I couldn’t hear those idiots coming a mile away. What the hell is he doing here? And why the fuck were you dreaming with him?” She could hear the hurt in his voice, even if he was trying to conceal it behind his anger. 

Buffy turned her full attention to the vampire she was curled up with. The last thing she remembered was standing next to Riley while Giles…She narrowed her eyes and looked around the room. “Where’s Giles?”

“Behind you,” she heard her Watcher groan softly. “Christ, what a nightmare.”

Spike was still glaring at Riley and not meeting her eyes. Buffy reached out and cupped his cheek, turning his face so he was looking at her. “Hey,” she said. “This was so not my idea.” Spike’s shoulders relaxed. She took in his familiar face, with his so-blonde-it-was-nearly-white hair, and the steep slope of his nose. He looked so much like his dream-professor self, and yet nothing like him at all. “Thank god you were there,” she added in a whisper. Spike’s eyes softened and the hand that had been gripping her hip toyed with the bottom of her sweater. She felt his cool fingertips brush against the bare skin of her stomach.

Xander woke with a startled cry, sitting straight up and waking Anya, who must have fallen asleep beside him. Tara and Willow were rubbing sleep from their eyes, curled up on the couch together.   “Xander?” Anya asked through a wide yawn. “Finally! Can we go home now?”

“That was completely weird,” Xander announced, rubbing his head. Riley had pushed himself up on his elbows and was grimacing like he was in pain. Buffy glared at him. Good. She hoped his whole body was pins and needles from sleeping on the floor. He deserved way worse.

“Uh.” Xander raised his hand. “So, does everyone remember me as the malt shop guy now, or am I still Xander?” 

“There was a malt shop?” Anya interjected.

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s a dream-spell, Xander, it doesn’t alter reality. It just sets up an alternate one and lets the dreamer’s scenario play out until a resolution is reached.”

“Oh, sure,” Xander said, sounding not sure at all. A moment later, his eyes widened. “Oh man, that means…” He glanced over at Riley and winced. “Uh, wow, that didn’t go as planned.”

Reluctantly, Buffy stopped Spike’s hand from its trek up under her shirt, shooting the vampire an apologetic smile as he pouted at her. She leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips before swinging her legs to the floor and trying to stand. She was a little wobblier than she was hoping for, but everyone else seemed even worse off, so she still had the advantage.

“Don’t you ever, ever, do that to me again,” Buffy said firmly, glancing around the room. Willow looked chastened, and Tara worried, but Giles continued to frown and rub at his temple.

“Buffy,” her Watcher started.

“I don’t want to hear it, Giles. I’m not your guinea pig. I don’t need to come to my senses and I’m not trying to find a substitute for a relationship that ended badly. My eyes are wide open, and you know what I’m seeing?” She waited for a beat but no one seemed willing to make a guess. Riley had managed to push himself up to a sitting position and was staring in bewilderment around the room. She fixed her gaze on her Watcher. “I’m seeing people who say they’re my friends and claim to care about me, but act like I’m too stupid to live. You don’t trust me at all, do you?” Giles flinched.

“Uh, was Sam here?” Riley asked tentatively. “How long were we asleep?”

“Who’s Sam?” Xander asked.

Riley’s expression turned guilty and he avoided looking in Buffy’s direction. He mumbled something under his breath that had Spike snorting and Buffy turned towards her boyfriend in confusion. “His fiancée, apparently,” Spike said loud enough for everyone to hear.

Buffy’s jaw dropped.

“You’re engaged?” Xander sounded shocked.

Spike chortled as he finally managed to extract himself from Giles’ chair, discreetly supporting himself against Buffy’s shoulder. “Made her the other woman, did you? Bet she’d love to hear about that.”

Riley glared at the vampire. “Shut up, Spike. If you ever-”

“Don’t you threaten him,” Buffy interrupted, crossing her arms. “In fact, unless you want your apparently clueless fiancée to hear about everything—and I mean everything, up to and including this—I suggest you leave Sunnydale and never, ever come back.” Sam’s sneering face from the dream floated across her mind, and Buffy decided maybe Sam and Riley deserved each other.

Riley went pale. “Hey, look, I just came because Giles…”

Giles cleared his throat, cutting Riley off. He was still clinging to the side of his chair and listing slightly, but alert. “Yes, well, let’s consider that a lesson learned.”

“Was it?” Buffy wished she felt strong enough to move, but Spike was still leaning heavily on her and she didn’t want to collapse on the way out the door, ruining their grand exit. “Because this idiotic stunt seems like the exact opposite of bothering to learn anything about me or Spike in the last few months.”

Giles closed his eyes, his brow furrowed. “Believe me, I know more than I ever wanted to now.” He cracked open one eye a moment later and turned a weak version of his stern Watcher glare on Spike. “And don’t you dare start dog-earing or making notes in my books. A lot of these are irreplaceable, you know."

“Those notes were damn useful.” Spike glared right back.

“I highly doubt they’d be useful here,” Giles said stiffly

“Oh sure, what could I possibly know about demons?” Spike retorted.

Giles frowned and seemed to be mulling that one over. Buffy rolled her eyes.

Riley tried to pick himself up off the floor, only to slump down again after the initial effort with a pained grunt. “I feel like I’ve been fighting HST’s all day.”

“That could be arranged,” Spike suggested. He seemed to be supporting himself a bit better, and his arm settled around Buffy’s waist. “How about you remove this chip I’ve got and we’ll go head to head?”

Riley glared at him, but his eyes darted to Buffy and he didn’t reply.

“Man, you’d better have a really good excuse for coming to visit your ex-girlfriend,” Xander informed Riley. “If I pulled something like this, Anya would kill me.”

“That’s true,” Anya volunteered.

Riley swiped a hand over his face. “Look, I’m not even sure what happened, okay? One minute I’m here, then I’m in some weird alternate Sunnydale where Spike still ruins everything, and then I’m back here. My head’s spinning.”

“That was you,” Buffy said quietly.

“What?” Riley looked up at her, frowning.

“You ruined everything, Riley. Spike had nothing to do with it.”

“Of course he ruined it!” Riley said heatedly. “You never would have run off with him if he hadn’t had some weird influence over the whole thing!”

Tara slowly shook her head behind him. “Um, I know I wasn’t there, but Willow and I studied this spell for a long time. No one can influence it, Riley. Whatever you dreamed up, everything that happened in it was just the magic nudging you towards the most realistic ending.”

Riley’s face scrunched up. “But that makes no sense.” He gestured at Spike. “Why would she choose to be with him?”

Giles sighed heavily. “God only knows, but apparently it’s inevitable.”

“Which we’re fine with,” Tara said swiftly, and Buffy didn’t miss the way Willow almost toppled over when Tara nudged her girlfriend with her elbow.

“Um, yeah,” Willow swayed back in Tara’s direction, and Buffy spotted the half-empty bottle of alcohol on the table by the couch. “What Tara said.” Buffy’s eyebrows lifted.

“Have you been drinking my scotch?” Giles asked suspiciously.

“We were very bored,” Anya told him. “There’s nothing to do in this house.”

“There’s books everywhere!” he exclaimed.

“I need to go,” Riley mumbled, trying to get to his feet.

Buffy felt Spike tense beside her and she laid a hand over the one he had on her hip. “Don’t forget what I said, Riley. I meant it.”

Riley glanced up at her, searching her face for a moment before his shoulders slumped. “Yeah, I‘ve got it, Buffy. I’ve got no idea why you…”

“That’s enough,” Giles rumbled in irritation. “We’ve all had a trying day.” He glanced at Buffy and straightened up a bit in his chair. “I didn’t mean to…well.”

“But you did, Giles,” she said softly.

He opened and closed his mouth without coming up with a reply.

“Ready?” Buffy asked under her breath. Spike nodded almost imperceptibly. “We’re leaving,” she announced in a louder tone. No one raised an objection. She and Spike made their way across the room without incident, though Riley refused to look in their direction at all. As Buffy pulled open the front door she heard someone murmur something, and looked back.

Beside her, Spike did the same. “What’s that, Red?” he asked curiously.

Willow peeked over the back of the couch, her expression one of misery. “I said: I’m really sorry. I’m glad you guys are okay.”

Buffy paused. “Me too, but I’m still mad, Willow.” Memories of the other, more naïve but cheerful Willow flickered through her brain. Would this Willow have turned out that way if she hadn’t gotten mixed up in the world of Slayers and demons? Guilt started to creep in.

Her friend nodded. “I know, but maybe we can talk later?”

Spike’s hand was rubbing small circles on Buffy’s back, and she leaned into it, grateful for his seemingly endless amount of patience with everything: her anger, her pain, her sister, her friends, her Watcher, and a Buffy in two different worlds who made a mess of things as she found her feet. He was just there, steady as a rock. Well, a rock who was occasionally insensitive, smoked like a chimney, and had a very limited sense of fashion, but no one was perfect.

“Later,” Buffy agreed. “But you have to promise to listen this time.”

“Cross my heart,” Willow replied, her eyes watering. She sniffled and Tara stroked her arm sympathetically as Buffy closed the door.

The night air was quiet and still, with just the hint of a chill. “Want me to walk you home?” Spike asked, his hand sliding down to press their palms together. Buffy linked her fingers with his and thought of those visions she’d had of them walking through New York together. She supposed Sunnydale would just have to do.

“Can you stay over?” she asked.

He glanced at her, one eyebrow lifting. “If you want.” She knew he was surprised by the request. He almost never slept at her house. The nights they were together they usually spent at his crypt, and then she’d sneak away by sunrise. She’d worried about setting a bad example for Dawn, and about what her friends would say if they’d dropped by in the morning and caught a sleepy, barefoot Spike drinking blood in the Summers kitchen.

Images of her mom trying and failing to keep up appearances in the dream-word danced through her brain. Buffy felt like a complete idiot. Everyone knew she was with Spike, including Dawn, and yet she was still trying to hide him like he was something to be ashamed of. And he’d let her, just like he’d let the Buffy in the other world almost ruin his career. She wasn’t sure if he knew how to deny her anything, which was simultaneously exhilarating and frightening.

“Do you really know how to cook eggs?” she asked as another, happier dream-memory flitted through her mind.

“Course,” Spike scoffed, swinging their joined hands as they walked down the sidewalk. “I’ll show you in the morning.” His voice was warm. They continued on in companionable silence for a minute.

“It was nice to see Mom,” she said softly.

Spike squeezed her hand. “Yeah, it was.”

“I wish…” she trailed off.

“I know, kitten.” Spike’s voice was low and soothing, and she leaned her head against his arm as they walked until the tears that’d been threatening faded away.

“Are we ever going to talk about how much poetry you know?”

“Absolutely not.”

***

The house was dark and silent when they arrived, and Buffy found a note from Dawn on the fridge. _Spending the night at Janice’s, took $20 for pizza_ , it read.

Buffy gave Spike a rueful smile. “She found the grocery money stash again.”

Spike dropped his gaze guiltily. “I may have left a bit of cash in the old hiding spot.”

Buffy opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t need his charity, but his shoulders hunched in that way she knew meant he was bracing for a blow and she couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

He peeked up at her through his lashes cautiously. “I know you don’t need my help, but I promise, Buffy it’s not-”

“I changed my mind,” Buffy said suddenly.

“What?” Spike stared at her in confusion.

“I changed my mind,” she said again.

His face fell and she realized he’d misunderstood what she meant as he turned around and headed for the back door. “Right, see you later.”

“No!” She reached out and snagged the sleeve of his jacket, forcing him to stop.

He eyed her like he was waiting for an explosion. She didn’t blame him; she’d been nothing but hot and cold with him since their relationship had begun. Everything made sense when it was just them, but then her friends would show up, or Giles would look at her a certain way, and their disappointment would weigh on her until it spilled onto Spike. Her usual method of detachment was to pick a fight and shove him away until she was ready to seek him out again. He was always waiting for her with open arms. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, her voice trembling. “Please don’t go.”

Spike’s brow furrowed and he took a step towards her. “Throwing me off a bit here, love. What are we talking about, then?”

Buffy leaned forward until her head was resting against his chest. Spike’s hands were gently running up and down her back. “I was talking about the money.” She felt a tear slide down her cheek but didn’t bother to wipe it away. She was so tired of trying to carry the burden of responsibility her mother’s death had foisted on her, on top of watching out for Dawn, and being the Slayer. She’d been lugging around the load, convinced she was doing it herself, when she’d been relying on Spike this whole time.

Spike’s hands had stilled on her back. “You changed your mind about the money?” he asked cautiously.

Buffy slid her hands around his waist under his jacket and held him close. She was still worn out from the dream-spell, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed, preferably with her boyfriend. But first she had to convince him she wasn’t mad at him. She sighed and tipped her head back so she could see Spike’s face. “Do you think we could talk about the ideas you have to help out? Not tonight, but in the morning, maybe?”

Spike’s face lit up and she felt even guiltier. “Of course we can.” His arms tightened around her and his chest rumbled against her cheek as he made a contented noise. “Bed?”

“Yes, please.” Buffy yawned widely as Spike steered her towards the stairs without letting go of her. She shuffled along obediently, secure in the knowledge he’d keep her from running into anything. When they reached the stairs he looped an arm under her knees and picked her up, carrying her the rest of the way. Her head was tucked into the crook of his neck and she breathed him in as they moved down the hall towards her bedroom. He kissed her temple and she smiled against his skin.

“Here we are,” he murmured, settling her onto the bed. Buffy watched him shake his coat off his shoulders and sit down next to her to unlace his boots. The familiar double thump they made on the floor was her signal to relax, and she realized it’d been that way since the very beginning. He started to pull his shirt off over his head when he caught her staring. “Buffy?”

She shifted closer to him and put her hands over his. “Let me,” she whispered. Spike slowly let go of his shirt and she tugged it off, but when he reached for her she shook her head. “I’m not done.” Puzzled, Spike leaned back on his hands as she reached for his belt buckle. She could feel her body begin to thrum the way it always did when she was near him, like it was tuned to him precisely.

She’d been so impatient lately, wanting him to make her forget her worries. She’d almost forgotten it could be different until they’d ended up in that other place, where she’d been just a normal girl and he’d still made her feel like the only one in the world. She undid the button of his jeans and slowly lowered the zipper, her fingertips grazing his soft skin. She didn’t want to rush this tonight.

He lifted his hips to let her slide his jeans off him and lay back against her pillows, one arm behind his head and the other stroking his hardening cock. He watched as she undressed herself just as deliberately, pulling off her sweater and unhooking her bra before stepping out of her jeans and panties.

When she was done, she crawled onto the bed and straddled his legs, reaching down to help him pleasure himself. She wrapped her hand around his shaft and began slowly stroking him. “What game are we playing tonight, kitten?” he asked quietly, relinquishing his erection to her.

“No games,” she murmured, enjoying the feel of him in her hand. “Just you and me, the way it should always be.” She bent down to swipe her tongue across the head of his cock before sucking it between her lips and drawing him into her mouth. Spike’s hips bucked slightly and she drew back, gazing up at him. “Do I make you happy?” she asked.

“Holy christ, yes, Buffy.” Spike was watching her with wide eyes, his hand fisted into the quilt on her bed. She resumed stroking his arousal, her hand tight around his shaft just the way he liked it. She loved that he let her have control like this, that he had no qualms surrendering to her, and, in a sudden burst of realization, Buffy understood something else, too.

She released his cock, and Spike whimpered, but she was already moving up to kiss him. His hands came up to clutch her hips before one moved down to stroke between her legs. She knew he’d find her wet and ready. He murmured her name against her lips and positioned his cock at her entrance so she could sink down onto him. They both groaned as Buffy took him in, her inner walls stretching until he was buried deep inside of her.

Her thighs shook with anticipation as she sat up, bracing herself against his bare chest. Spike’s hands slid up to cup her breasts, then down along her sides to caress her ass and back up again. “You make me happy too, Spike,” she whispered. His smile was beautiful, reminding her of stolen moments on the top of a cliff they’d never visited in this world. She rolled her hips, feeling him move within her. She took a deep breath. “I love you.”

Spike’s entire body went perfectly still.

Buffy just kept her gaze on him. She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for until she saw it, that spark in his eyes that had been steadily dimming over the last few months as he waited for the inevitable axe to fall, severing their relationship. She’d been waiting too, and it was all because she’d been too afraid to listen to her own heart. She could have lost everything.

“Say it again,” he said in wonder.

A laugh slipped out at the same time a tear skated down her cheek. “I love you, Spike.”

He growled, his hands tightening on her hips as he surged up into her. “Love you, Buffy,” he gasped. She caught his rhythm and began to move with him. “Love you.”

Buffy tugged one of his hands off her hip and kissed his palm. “I know.”

She wasn’t going to be getting quite as much sleep as she’d anticipated, but at least she knew she’d be having good dreams.


	26. Epilogue: Not Fade Away

Dawn banged on the bathroom door. “Come on, Buffy, I have to get ready too!”

Buffy rolled her eyes and wiped irritatedly at the eyeliner Dawn’s knock had sent askew. “To go to Janice’s?” she called back.

The huff Dawn let out was big enough that Buffy was surprised the bathroom door didn’t rattle. “We’re going to the movies,” her little sister explained. “Since you won’t let me come to your stupid party.”

Buffy snorted and leaned toward the mirror again, steadying her hand as she tried to get her makeup to go on straight. “No way are you allowed to go to a frat party.” She leaned back, nodding in satisfaction at her winged eyeliner. Good enough. “Even when you are in college.”

Dawn sighed in exasperation and stomped back down the hall.

Buffy finished up her makeup with a pale pink lipstick and a little blush before deciding she was ready. Her hair was appropriately high, her eyelashes were ridiculously long, and she was definitely looking forward to seeing the expression on Spike’s face when he saw how short her paisley shift dress was. She smoothed the fabric down over her butt, making sure it was covered, and smiled at her reflection. Perfect.

Sailing down the hall towards the stairs, Buffy stopped outside Dawn’s bedroom door. “Bathroom’s free!”

“Finally!” Dawn yelled back.

Buffy headed down the stairs and found Willow and Tara lounging on the couch in matching slacks, white shirts, and skinny ties, their hair stick-straight and pulled back. “You guys look great.” She grinned at them. “Ready to go?”

They’d both moved in at the beginning of the spring semester, and while it had been hard to let them transform her mother’s room into their own, it was really nice to have them around. Tara had infinite amounts of patience with Dawn, for which Buffy was extremely grateful, and their rent money went a long way towards easing her anxiety about keeping up with the bills.

“Aren’t we missing someone?” Willow lifted her eyebrows. “I thought Spike was coming?”

Taking a moment to marvel that her friend hadn’t made a face at the vampire’s name, Buffy checked the nearby clock. “I thought he’d be back by now. Is he not…?” Buffy replied, just as she heard the kitchen door bang open.

“Buffy?” Spike called. “Sorry I’m late, kitten, I…” his voice trailed off as he entered the living room and his eyes dropped to her legs. She felt her whole body heat up as his gaze slowly swept up over her knee high boots and took in her bare thighs before finally rising to meet her eyes. “Well, isn’t this is a nice surprise.” His voice had dropped to a low rumble.

“We’ll, um, meet you there,” Tara said hastily, grabbing Willow’s hand and pulling her girlfriend toward the front door. Buffy heard them giggling as they left.

“Did you have any trouble?” Buffy asked, taking a step toward Spike. He hadn’t moved since he’d caught sight of her.

“Hardly any,” Spike said absently, shaking his coat off his shoulders and tossing it over a nearby chair. His eyes had dropped to her legs again. “Eggs were delivered safe and sound, just took a bit longer than expected to get them settled in the crypt.”

“Anya already has a waiting list,” Buffy told him. “She called again this afternoon.” Buffy sidled a little closer to Spike.

“That so?” Spike breathed as she came within arm’s reach. His fingers skimmed along her waist down to her hips, pulling her flush against him.

“Thanks for doing this for us,” Buffy said softly. She’d thought he was crazy when he’d first broached the idea of tracking down some creature whose eggs were considered a delicacy in certain circles. But when she’d mentioned it to Anya, the other girl had been beside herself with joy. Even Giles had reluctantly conceded that the idea seemed harmless enough, and would benefit the shop as well. Spike had been thrilled.

Her Watcher had been less so, but the mere fact that he was willing to work with the vampire spoke volumes. Buffy’d even caught Giles and Spike talking one afternoon after a training session about various weapon techniques and what might work best against different types of demons. She considered that a complete victory.

“Always take care of my girls.” Spike’s fingers skimmed the hem of her dress.

She shivered at the delicious sensation and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Are you ready for the party?”

“Do we have to go?” Spike asked, his hands cupping her butt. He pressed his lips against her collarbone, and then began to kiss his way up her throat.

“I told everyone that I’d…” Buffy trailed off weakly, tipping her head back.

“Oh, gross!” Dawn said, thundering down the stairs. “Can you guys knock it off for five seconds? It’s embarrassing.”

Spike grinned, his hands sliding up to Buffy’s back. “Where’re you heading, bit?”

“Movie and then Janice’s.” Dawn made a face. “Since I’m never allowed to have fun.”

Spike snorted. “Yeah, that’s why we keep you locked in your castle tower at all times.”

“Huh, tower, good idea,” Buffy said thoughtfully.  

Dawn rolled her eyes dramatically and grabbed her jacket as a car horn sounded outside. “That’s Janice’s mom. I’ll see you guys later.” She slammed the front door behind her.

“Now, where were we?” Spike murmured in her ear.

Buffy smiled and guided his hands down to her butt again. “Right about here.”

***

The music was loud and the party was even more crowded than the last one. Buffy spotted Willow and Tara out on the dance floor, their stark suits standing out in a sea of tie dye and flower crowns.

“Buffy!” Xander called, looking cheerful and slightly red-faced in a terrible polyester shirt. Buffy guessed the drink in his hand wasn’t his first. “Hey, we didn’t think you guys were going to make it.” Ever since the dream-spell, Xander had seemed to mellow quite a bit towards Spike, though Buffy suspected he sometimes pretended the vampire was just a professor instead of a demon. “You didn’t dress up?” His mouth turned down as he took in Spike’s usual black jeans and black t-shirt.

“First time through the 60’s was enough for me,” Spike said easily.

“Did you get my eggs?” Anya asked eagerly, coming over and hanging onto Xander’s arm.

Spike chuckled. “Yeah, just finished stashing the lot.”

Anya squealed happily and hugged her boyfriend’s arm. “Oh, they’re going to make us so much money!” She beamed up at Xander. “Maybe we should plan a cruise for our honeymoon.”

“A cruise?” Xander looked bewildered. “Like on a boat? Those eggs are worth that much?”

“Let’s dance to celebrate!” Anya dragged him off.

Spike’s arm slipped around Buffy’s waist and his lips brushed against her ear. “Want a drink?”

“Yes, please.” She watched him saunter towards the kitchen and leaned against a nearby wall while she waited for him to return.

Her whole body felt loose and relaxed, and if Anya’s excitement was anything to go by, this egg scheme was going to help even more than she’d anticipated. Her heart did a little flip when she remembered how excited Spike had been to tell her about it. She’d already had to veto mugging vamps before dusting them and cheating at poker in Vegas, so Spike had been over the moon to have finally hit on an idea she’d cautiously approved of.

Spike returned with two red cups and handed one to her. She wrinkled her nose. “What is it?”

“Something fruity, I was told.” He tugged her off the wall just far enough to slip in behind her so she could lean back against his chest and his arm settled around her waist.

She sighed happily. “Thank you, Spike. For everything I mean.”

Spike’s arm tightened around her for a minute and his teeth nipped at her ear. “Anytime, kitten,” he rumbled quietly. “Glad I could help.”

“Do you think we made it to New York?” Buffy asked after taking a cautious sip of her drink. It wasn’t too bad, but it was no blue drink with an umbrella in it.

“In the dream?” Spike sounded surprised. “Of course we did. Said I’d take you, didn’t I?”

“I bet it was really nice,” Buffy said wistfully.

Spike plucked her drink out of her hand and set it along with his own on a nearby windowsill. She turned, surprised, and he pulled her against him so they were chest to chest. “Why do you ask?” He gazed down at her curiously.

She shrugged and slid her hands across the soft cotton of his t-shirt. She wished he was wearing a tie she could fiddle with. She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Buffy.” His voice was soft. “You can go anywhere you want, you know.”

She peeked up at him. “But I can’t…”

He shook his head and bent down to cut her off with a kiss. “You’ve got me and your friends and the Watcher to keep an eye on the hellmouth.”

Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight. “What if I’d rather you came with me?”

He buried his face in her hair. “Then I’ll be right beside you.”

Buffy felt like her chest was too small to contain all of her feelings, and they clung together for a long moment. She could feel Spike breathing in time with her. 

“Guys!” Xander stumbled to a halt beside them. “Did Anya tell you I figured out the chocolate malted recipe? You’ve got to come over later and try one. They’re freaking amazing.”

Buffy laughed and pressed her face against Spike’s chest to dry her tears before lifting her head. “That sounds great, Xander. We’d love to.”

“Cool.” Xander beamed at them and headed off again.

“Might be nice to not be interrupted every ten seconds,” Spike grumbled.

“Do you really think we could go?” Buffy asked, looking up at him hopefully. “I mean, someday.”

Spike gently swiped a thump across her cheek. “I think you could do anything, kitten.”

Her heart warmed. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” Spike’s hands had wandered down to her butt again.

“Make it sound like nothing’s impossible?”

Spike’s cool fingers grazed along the backs of her thighs. “Found you, didn’t I? How could anything be impossible?”

Buffy pulled away from him slightly. “Sweet talker,” she said affectionately. “Come on, let’s find the others and put in an appearance.”

“What’s the rush?” Spike lifted an eyebrow.

“I’ve got a couple more impossible things I want to try tonight.”

Spike’s smirk turned leering as she grasped his hand and led him across the room to chat with her friends. Things might not always be as simple between them here as everything seemed to be in those dream-worlds, but he was right. He always found her.

Even the inevitable march of time hadn’t stopped him.

A shiver ghosted up her spine and she held Spike’s hand a little tighter as they wove through the crowded dance floor. He squeezed back, his strong grip reassuring. She didn’t want to know a world without him in it.

Maybe it was time to start living her own dreams. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you times a million to the best beta a girl could have: Sunalso!
> 
> And thank you to everyone who followed along, I appreciate each and every one of you!
> 
> Special thanks to @badwolfdarkjedi for her amazing images! They're so lovely. <3 <3   
> [](https://imgur.com/XqACmz2)


End file.
